Field of Deans
by J.A. Carlton
Summary: Stolen from inside the impala at a rest stop, John has his hands full with a two year old Sam, and only two days to find his six year old son Dean before he loses his only chance for an entire year. Wee Chesters.
1. Chapter 1

Field of Deans – SN fic – chpt 1.

by: sifi

Disclaimer: Present and accounted for.

Love, unflagging.

--

_Mmm hot... is that birds?... light... ungh!_ he rolled over, his hands searching for the pillow he knew should have been there, _where is it? Yeah that's birds... where am I?_ he bolted upright, his jade green eyes blinking into the sunshine, filling with glare from the drying waves of yellow wheat swaying around him. _Who am I?_ he could feel his face frowning as he scratched his head, looked around and finally down at himself. _I'm a boy..._ he acknowledged pushing himself to his feet, his hands sliding into and out of every pocket he could find, his jacket, his shirt, and all five of his jeans pockets. Nothing.

"Hello?!" he called, _Okay, _"Hello! Is anybody there?" _Shhhh! _something inside him hissed. He crouched low in the wheat his hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes saucer wide. His heart thudded in his ears, _But how'm I supposed to get help if I don't ask for it? _His mouth bowed down in a deep frown while his face crumpled. His chin began to quiver and he gasped a deep breath as he came to realize he was going to cry. O_kay don't panic... don't panic... DON'T PANIC? Who AM I? WHERE am I? _"Won't anybody HELP ME! PLEASE!" he screamed though his hand was still clamped over his mouth. "I'm scared..." he muttered.

Hot saltiness poured down his throat, or up it, he couldn't tell, but it was followed by a warm sting and prickle at the corners of his eyes as they filmed over and tears started to gather. His chest filled shakily, he craned his head up, trying to look over the tops of the stalks of wheat surrounding him, but as the tears overflowed the world around him turned to a sea of gold with a clear blue cloudless sky above and the sound of crows in the air.

_A farm?_ he wondered pushing the tears off his face. He bent his knees and jumped, his head turning quickly left and right, trying to get some bearings. After all, if he was on a farm, there would be people around, somewhere.

He turned by degrees, jumping high enough to see over the tops of the waving grasses and finally, in the distance, with the sun behind him, a gray upright glance of sunlight in the distance spoke of a place where he'd find what he was looking for.

Something tiny, dark and shivering in the back of his mind said, _'stop, strangers...'_ but a brighter, warmer voice shined wide open, in fact he could almost see the owner of the other voice, something happy, bouncing and clapping as it grinned, _PEOPLE!! _

The tiny, dark shivering voice disappeared as he took off in the direction of the distant silo, toward the promise of someone who might know who he was, but most importantly, the promise of SOMEONE.

A few steps later he stopped, frowning once again and scratched his head, slowly returning to the area in which he'd awoken. _I'm missing something... _he patted himself down again, and upon finding the imprint of his own form on the ground, got to his hands and knees to scour the area for whatever it was that kept tickling the back of his brain.

"Justin!... JUSTIN DAVID MARSHALL! Where'd ya go boy?! Come on out now... It's alright son!" rang a thin sounding voice as it wound through the wheat.

He poked his head up, his quest for whatever was missing taking a backseat for the moment, _Is that me? Am I Justin? IT's gotta be!_ "Hello?" he called tentatively, moving with slow hesitant steps at first toward the voice that beckoned.

"Justin? I hear ya boy... come on out now, it's gonna be just fine..."

He followed the voice, led by hope, led by the desire for identity until he stood before a tall wiry man with a sweat and dirt streaked t-shirt and face, beneath his hard worn ball cap.

"Justin!" he grinned dropping to his knees with his arms open toward the boy.

Warmth, comfort, and protection came rolling off the man before him, calling him forward, drawing him in like a magnet. He closed his arms around the man's neck and laid his head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of sweat, oil, and earth, and it felt like home.

"T'sokay son, it's all gonna be okay I promise ya," he soothed with trembling breath while stroking the boy's back and damp hair.

"Are you my dad?" the boy asked a moment later then noticed the man's arms squeeze him just a little tighter. He felt the man's head nod and his chest quiver as he stood up, placing the boy on his shoulders.

"Yes siree bub... I'm your pa...sure as you're my Justin...guess it's time to remind you again huh?" he bounced the boy on his shoulders.

"Uh huh... remind me what?" he asked taking the hat from his pa's head and drawing it down onto his own, feeling his fears fading back into the field, gone the way of whatever it was he thought he'd been missing.

--

"Did you find him Ray?" a frazzled woman with dark hair and soft curves dashed toward the kitchen door, stopping just a few feet away from her man and their boy. Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes started to water, "Oh Justin sweetheart! Oh my boy!" she cried reaching for him, her smile to both the boy and her husband warm, grateful and full of love.

Ray ducked down a bit, letting his wife draw their son off his shoulders, "Now don't go getting too mushy on him Missy... he's forgot again, we don't want to smother him before he feels comfortable with it..." he grinned ruffing the boys' hair through the hat still on his head.

Missy nodded her head, holding the boy tightly to herself, tears wetting them both while he suffered himself to be held, cuddled and coddled. He could feel answers forthcoming, and part of him knew everything was going to be just fine. These were good people, these were _his_ people, his _parents_. _Family... I have a family... is it just me though?_ he wondered then wondered why that felt wrong.

"Do I have any brothers or sisters?" he asked then felt a tingle in the pit of his belly as Missy Marshall squeezed him just a little more tightly before quieting a sob.

"No sweetheart... you're our one and only..." she gushed.

"And we've never been so happy in our lives, and so grateful!" Ray added.

He pulled his head back, then sat on the counter where Missy placed him, "Why'd I forget?" he asked.

Ray and Missy shared a look that told him the subject made them sad.

"See Justin, we really don't know..." Ray started, "Thank's sweetheart," he smiled upon taking the glass of lemonade she handed him.

The boy also took his glass and gulped it down before gasping out a grateful, "Thanks,"

"They told us it might've been the accident, or that maybe you had an injury that wasn't on the outside, so we couldn't know... at least not until later, they just knew that there were going to be times when your memory would kinda skip, like a record and you'd have to be reminded of what's what," he started to explain.

"Why don't you know?" he frowned looking from one to the other, "Isn't moms and dads supposed to know?" he asked.

"Sure sweetheart, but see whatever it was that happened was before you came to us, in fact we're pretty sure it's WHY you found us, but there really isn't any way we could be sure, there weren't any records we could check, there was... nothing..." Missy smiled softly, her hand at his back, warm and gentle.

"You mean I'm not yours?" he asked confused as he jumped down from the counter, feeling the return of that 'something's missing' nipping in the back of his brain, "I gotta... I think I left something... I lost something..." he muttered looking between them, "Will you help me? Will you help me find it?" he asked.

"Of course we will sweetheart," she placed her hand on his shoulder. He smiled up into her face, then looked with the same earnest plea on his face to the man who called himself his 'Pa'.

"You betcha... but you listen here first... I don't ever want you thinking you're not ours Justin! We love you! We WANT you, and we prayed to God for a boy we could raise as our very own... and God saw fit to put you into our hands... we've been blessed, and we hope you'll feel the same way," Ray Marshall gazed openly into the milky green eyes that shone so brightly before him.

"Yessir," he nodded not quite remembering what had been so important only a moment ago.

Missy turned from the kitchen cabinet and shook a tablet from a prescription bottle into the palm of her hand, "Here you go sweetie, you take two of these every day, one at breakfast and one at suppertime, they're supposed to help you keep things straight in your head so that hopefully eventually, you won't have that little, 'skip' anymore," she explained.

He took the tablet between his fingers looking from Ray to Missy, wondering fleetingly if this was right. Neither adult gave him a funny feeling though, and with his belly quiet he decided it must be as she said, so popped the tablet onto the back of his tongue washing it down with the last mouthful of lemonade in his cup.

"Now... you wanna go help me drive the combine while we get you familiar with everything again?" Ray asked.

"What's a combine?" he asked, though he was less interested in what exactly the machine itself was, than he was with the idea of driving.

Ray laughed, "A combine is a really really really BIG kind of tractor..." he rose up, placing their glasses into the sink, then kissed his wife's cheek, "C'mon... I'll show you..."

He walked beside Ray Marshall, wondering how much driving of this tractor he'd actually be allowed to do, the sense that he'd lost something was gone, just as any knowledge of the name Dean Winchester lay also, far out of reach.

--

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi


	2. Chapter 2

Field of Deans – chpt 2.

by: sifi.

--

"...and you came out and he was gone?" County Sheriff Steve Hynze asked peering over his sunglasses at John.

"Yeah..." John nodded then pointed to the glass beads that were all that was left of the passenger window, "That's right..."

"And why did you leave him in the car?" he asked.

John winced, the officer's question the same one his conscience had been screaming since he emerged from the mini-mart with Sam in his arms to find his car window smashed and his cherished first born gone.

"Sammy was getting fussy... we're just starting with the potty training and he said he had to go... Dean was in the car listening to his tapes, the doors were locked..."

"I do good?" Sam nodded petting John's near-beard.

"Yeah Sammy... you did good..." John half-choked, pressing his forehead to his baby's temple.

"... you didn't argue? Nothing that would maybe make him try to run away and make it look like someone snatched him?"

Fury snapped inside John Winchester, as he held his littlest one, with suddenly wide misty eyes and a fist that leaped into his mouth, snugly to him while he pointed into the passenger seat where cubes of safety glass glinted in the daylight, "That's my SON's BLOOD! and the window is broken INWARD! If you can't do something to help me find my boy then get on your god damned radio and get someone here who can!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. The fury and volume of his voice brought his baby's head tightly to his chest to help drown out the painful sound.

"Daddy?" Sam sniffed rubbing his face against John's rough stubble, drying the tears that were creeping from his eyes. "Wan' Dee..." he huffed, his mouth bowed downward and trembling.

"Me too baby... me too..." John soothed stroking his little boy's back and demanding that his heart settle and his head remain clear. He had to stay clear for the sake of his boy, for ALL their sakes.

"Alright alright... I understand Mr. Winchester..."

"DO you!?" he demanded, "My boy is out there somewhere with God only knows WHAT... happening to him, in God only knows WHATs... what kind of person's hands! He's SIX YEARS OLD for God's sake! He's not... he's... it's NOT safe out there!" his voice broke on the last, the tears he'd tried so hard to dam slid forth into the crevasses of his cheeks where his little one's tiny hand pushed them away.

_God I can't believe how I screwed up! I shouldn't have bothered with the cops! I should've just... I should've... bastards! _he held Sam firmly to his chest, his tired little boy alternating between frightening alertness that kept him scanning the area, and the tiredness of a two year old boy whose been on the road with his dad and big brother for two days solid only to find his big brother missing.

"Mr. Winchester, come with me please..." another man, this one stuck in fashion non-sense of late seventies ushered him into the mini-mart, into a back room where a surveillance tape was flickering on pause.

One of the mini-mart clerks sat at the console. When the plain clothes detective nodded at him, the video started moving forward, a static shot that covered only the pay phone, a bank of propane tanks, and the car, the only movement a faint gray bobbing head swaying to some inaudible music in the passenger seat of John's shining black impala.

"DEEEAANN!" Sam squealed reaching toward the monitor.

"That IS your son Dean Mr. Winchester?" the cop asked.

"Yeah, that's him," John nodded holding his baby close.

At the far edge of the camera a thick plume of opaque white moved into the frame, rolling toward the impala.

"What the hell is that?" John asked breathlessly, his eyes moving from the cop to the clerk and back again.

"Looks like smoke..." the detective frowned.

"Were there any reports of a fire nearby?" John demanded of the clerk, a young boy with teased and oversprayed hair, black nail polish and pristine complexion that was a left turn from what would have been expected at his age.

The boy shook his head, "Nothing I've heard."

"Do folks around here burn rubbish? No accidents? ANYTHING that would... merit that quantity of smoke?!" John demanded, his desperation thickening the air.

_Accidents... heh... this isn't the time,_ "Sorry mister..." the kid shook his head, his expression sincere as they all turned their attention back to the screen, their eyes riveted on the slow progress of the cloud of white as it approached the passenger side of the car, the young boy within only now noticing the rolling opacity. They watched the window roll all the way up, they watched his hands slap down on the locks for his door and the one behind him, then they watched the white envelop the car.

They sat for several tense seconds until the white that had obscured the screen began to creep off the other side, leaving behind the impala as John had found it, the passenger window smashed and his first born son gone.

"Dude it's like that movie 'The Fog'..." the clerk muttered, clearly amazed at the prospect of watching a movie come to life in his little corner of the world, until he caught sight of the superhuman scowl that burned on John Winchesters' face. "Sorry... but it kinda is...or that other one..." he stopped, _NOT NOW dumbass...later._

"Alright enough of the fantasy crap kid... how many other cameras are there?" the detective asked.

They went through the other tape that showed alternating views of the pumps, as well as half of the impala's trunk, during the same time frame, each of them noticing something off, but not quite able to pin it down until the clerk finally spoke up.

"...I don't see any of that smoke, or whatever it was..." he observed pointing at the right rear fender, looking first at the frowning cop then to the man who'd lost his son, the man who's scowl had sent a shudder through him. He wasn't sure exactly what it was he saw in the man's face, but it wasn't the same skepticism the police officer was demonstrating. _Could it...nah...it's just a story... still..._

"Could it be glare? A bad tape?..." John muttered though his questions sounded half hearted.

"We'll have one of our people go through the tapes, check the connections, check the cameras themselves... see if there's some kind of electrical interference or something..." the detective assured John with a hand on his shoulder, "Do you know where you're going to be staying yet Mr. Winchester?"

"The nearest motel I can find..." he grunted, pressing his mouth to Sammy's ear.

In moments the youngest Winchester squirmed and squealed and fussed reaching for the clerk and the console.

"Deeeaannn!" he howled again and again until the room was full of Sam's two year old voice growing more and more insistent.

"Okay, okay kid... here... I got a cousin about his age ... why don't you let me run the video back for him while you get the motel information together?" he offered, proving to be quite a different type of teen than the face he presented to the world.

"Would you mind?" John asked, wincing against his baby boy's cry for his big brother.

"No way dude... he just wants to see his big brother... don't cha kid?" he asked Sam directly.

Sammy stuck his fist into his mouth, nodding his head while he looked at the kid with wide hopeful eyes. He looked at John then held his hands out to the teenage boy.

"If he gets fussy we'll be right at the counter with the phone book," John nodded.

"Sure thing dude... uh mister..." he nodded rewinding the tape, his eyes on the door until Sam's dad and the police man left, "Hey little man... if you want I can make you a copy of this so you can see your brother later tonight..." he offered reaching for one of several blank tapes on a shelf, "You want that little guy?" he asked.

Sam took his fist out of his mouth and grinned, then leaned forward and kissed the boy on the cheek, "Dean!" he slapped the monitor, "do daddy too?" he asked.

The boy looked out the door toward the counter, his eyes catching sight of John looking back into the room and a slight nod that his little boy returned.

"Aaah so that's it isn't it?" the teen smiled wondering at just what he might have gotten himself caught up in. He honestly didn't have anything against cops, besides the small hassles that usually frustrated them to no end when it came to kids who dressed like him, but there was something about this guy and his kids, the way he'd looked at the smoke rolling toward the car. _Yeah, the cops aren't going to be able to help this guy...wonder if I should tell him... nah, _he thought quickly copying the 2.3 minutes of the car being swallowed and the smoke receding, then adding the alternating corresponding sequences of the pumps and the unobscured fender after it.

He snapped the hard plastic cover closed over the copy and handed it to John's youngest son just as he and the detective returned.

"For me?" Sam asked clutching the tape to his little belly while his eyes shined with hope.

"Sure kiddo...you can have that one... I gotta give these to this nice police man who's gonna help your pop find your brother okay?" he ruffled the brown mop of hair and smiled as Sam giggled. "Here you go mister... he just wanted to see his brother again," he handed Sam, clutching the VHS tape to his chest to John, then popped out both surveillance tapes and handed them over to the detective.

"Thanks," John smiled tightly, stress written deeply all over his face.

--

Blue light shone through the curtains of the motel room outlining John's black silhouette as he leaned back, bottle in hand, tipped high while white and gray flickered again as he rewound the tape.

A soft knock at the door resulted in the room falling quickly dark before a light came on and the haggard, stubbled face of one papa bear Winchester peered out from behind the cheap curtains.

Frowning in confusion he opened the door sizing up the kid from the gas station.

"How'd you know where I was?" he asked taking the boy by surprise.

"It's the only motel for like 20 miles or something... wasn't that hard... listen... oh hell nevermind... I don't know what the hell I'm doing here... sorry to bug you mister..." he grunted waving quickly and turning on his heel, heading for a silver early 70's Cougar.

"Hold on..." John huffed, "You came here for a reason..."

The boy turned back, his eyes downcast while he scratched his head, "Yeeah... you're gonna think I'm nuts... I shouldn't have bugged you man..."

"It's about the fog isn't it?" John called, "It's not natural is it?"

A trickle of cold ran backwards up the boy's spine as he turned to face the hope in the older man's eyes. "I...who the hell are you man?" he asked returning to the doorstep.

"John Winchester... my boy's in trouble isn't he?" he asked stepping aside to usher the young man into his motel room, "Who're you?"

"Tommy Daykin," he offered his hand, fearlessly peering into the man's deep brown eyes, "... Look, I know what you're gonna say... it's just a freakin' ghost story... but I did some checking and the timing is right..." he nodded as John shut the door.

Tommy pressed 'Play' on the VCR John had hooked up to the TV in the room and nodded upon seeing the corner of the screen begin to fill with the rolling white they'd seen earlier.

"You want a drink?" John offered, raising his bottle of Jack.

"I'm seventeen..." Tommy shook his head.

"Beer?" John offered instead.

Again the boy shook his head, "Nah, I'm good thanks..." and sat beside the older man on the couch.

"So the timing is right for what?" John asked.

"If the stories are true you got two days left to find your son before you gotta wait till next year..." he offered.

John took a deep steadying breath, his eyes shot to the bedroom where it was evident his baby boy was sleeping. "Tell me..."

--

"Where're we going dad?" the recently dubbed Justin asked as his 'pa cranked over the engine on his beat up old ford then wiped his sweat soaked brow.

"Headin' into town to pick up some things for your ma at the store," Ray tussled the boy's dark blonde hair.

"And I get to come too?! Awesome!" he grinned making sure his belt was fastened securely.

"Sure do. Awesome huh? Don't ya mean cool?" Ray asked eyeing the boy curiously as he adjusted the shoulder strap of the belt.

"Sure," Justin grinned his tongue flicking to the half grown in front tooth he'd noticed in the mirror this afternoon, "Mom said there's a fair in town?" he asked as they bounced down the farm road that led to the paved main street half a mile away.

"Sure is and if we get our chores done before supper, and that includes showers and even behind the ears..." he teased flicking the boys' ear, making him shrug his head to the side and giggle, "... then maybe we can go and give you a chance to meet some of the kids you're gonna be going to school with in just a few weeks..."

"Really!?" Justin asked, his eyes wide, and bright enough to be called luminous, "I get to start school?"

"Sure you do... but don't go getting excited or anything... it's only half days..." Ray shot a happy smile to the boy.

"I know the alphabet all the way, and I can even write it! I think...can I pa?" he asked scratching his head, unsure of what exactly he did or didn't know.

"I dunno... let's see... I bet if you do you know the song for sure...wanna try?" he asked.

"Yeah..." Justin nodded.

"I'll start then just in case," he winked and started singing "A,B,C,D,..."

"E,F,G,... H, I, J, K..." the boy chimed in smiling happily,

"LMNOP..." Ray raced.

"Q,R,S... T, U, V..."

"W,X..."

"Y, Z!" Justin finished, bouncing on the seat, feeling every spring beneath the worn leather creaking but he didn't care, _I KNOW something... and I KNOW that I know it!_ he clapped his hand against his knee just like a proper farmer.

"Can I see if I know all my numbers?" he asked.

"Sure y'can son... you go right ahead and count as high as you can!" Ray tussled his hair yet again, never in his life had he been happier. While he listened to the sounds of God's gift in the seat beside him counting, he pondered the fortune that had finally brought a child to him and his wife.

All the years of trying, and praying, and hoping... all the children they'd fostered, all the times they'd been turned down for adoptive privileges because their farm just wasn't able to produce enough to make a stable home and the good Lord had seen fit to put a child right into their hands, neither he nor Missy ever dreamed of such luck and yet here it was.

True, it was terrible that a boy so young already had so much to contend with, holes in his memory, some horrible shouting out nightmares about someone named Sam that he couldn't recall upon waking. The doctors had told Ray the nightmares would stop in time, then had clapped him on the back, congratulating him on how resilient children were, as if it were his doing. Ray Marshall didn't mind though, whatever it took to help his boy through this tough time, by hell or high water, he was up for the challenge! He and his Missy had waited far too long to let anything trouble their son!

--

tbc.

please R&R

Thanks.

sifi.


	3. Chapter 3

Field of Deans – chpt 3

by: sifi

--

"Dude the best way I can help you is by staying out of your way...or watching the little guy... just hang tight my uncle'll be here in just a few minutes..." Tommy Daykin assured the growling, pacing man who seemed to be growing with his level of frustration.

"And you're SURE?" John nearly demanded for the umteenth time, "We should just go... you can stay here with Sam..."

"Okay first off..." Tommy rose to his feet, a scowl marring his young face, "You need to calm down..."

"HE's MY SON!" he bellowed into the teen's face, his hands clasping his shoulders in a death grip that more than adequately communicated his sense of helplessness.

"I know," Tommy nodded, trembling just a bit at the sight of a man coming so close to flipping his hinges, but it wasn't his first time talking down a freaked out hunter, "But first off you've been drinking... whiskey... you're not driving... second off, in case you haven't figured it out, the cops are looking at YOU... they ALWAYS look close to home first no matter what the evidence says... and third losing your freaking mind ain't gonna do the little guy a damned bit of good! Especially not if you do something stupid that's gonna get him taken away from you!" his voice had risen in pitch and volume, startling John with its vehemence and the infallible logic he presented. Slowly, John nodded.

"You're right..." John nodded as a whine stole out of the bedroom.

John moved into the room, gathering his boy into his arms, "T'sokay Sammy... s'okay..."

"Dean! ... want Dean...I bad made Dean bye bye?... wan' Dean daddy..." he sniffled rubbing his face against John's soft warm flannel.

"No sweetheart no! You didn't do anything wrong, Dean would never leave you! Somethi...somebody..." _some THING, _"...took...Oh God," he choked, his thickened voice tried to assure his youngest while inside he screamed, _I WANT MY SON!_ He rocked Sam back and forth, his eyes catching sight of mist over the teen's cornflower blues, "I know baby I know, I want him back too..." he sighed as a knock sounded on the door.

Tommy peered through the curtains then tossed open the door admitting a man just a few years older than John Winchester, but could easily stand eye to eye with his six feet three inches and not even bother to think about flinching.

"John Winchester... this is my uncle, Shepard McGregor. Shep, this is John Winchester, he's new to the game..." he turned to John, "If anyone can help you find Dean... it's my uncle."

"Dean?" Sam yawned looking at the blonde haired boy that showed him his big brother again.

"That's right kiddo..." Tommy smiled as Sam reached for him.

John's brown eyes met Shep's greenish gold ones and he felt himself break into a hopeful but genuine smile as he handed his youngest over to the boy and extended his hand to this new potential ally.

"Nice to meet you... thanks for coming out..." John nodded.

"Sorry 'bout your son, but hey we do our best work at night... how long've you been in it?" he asked, his voice creamy in the ears, as he entered the room and shut the door.

"Just a couple years..." John shook his head, "...some times I feel... a little..."

"Out of your element?" Shep finished for him.

"Yeah..."

"So..." he looked at his nephew, "Tommy go get the kid something to eat and fill me in on what he misses..."

Tommy Daykin nodded sifting through the small fridge, pointing at things, each one Sam shook his head except for a bottle of plain water.

"He's on a banana kick... there should be a mushy one in there somewhere..." John called.

"Nana! nana nana..." Sam clapped and grinned hugely.

"Alllrighty then... smushy nana it is!" Tommy laughed squeezing it out of its skin and onto a paper plate.

"Kid's had a tough time of it..." Shep sighed watching his nephew with the little boy, "He's a good kid..."

"I can see that... mind if I ask...?" John started.

"It's not my story to tell... let's get back to yours huh?" the older man redirected the conversation, "Tell me exactly what happened."

No matter how antsy John was to get going and find his boy, feeling the clock ticking, maybe not so loudly yet, but he knew soon that each tick or tock would ring like a canon shot in his head, still he knew this man Shep needed all the information he could get if they were going to find Dean before the two remaining days were up.

_Two days... less than that... and the carnival started setting up this morning... by the time they pack up Sunday night... NO! He'll be home before then... he'd never stay away of his own accord... NEVER..._ John worked hard to steady his nerves while Shep rewound and watched the tape his nephew had given Sam.

"Rolled in from the right direction too... I just can't believe we actually have proof!" Shep breathed then looked at Tommy, "...and it's only from THAT angle?"

"Yeah... you see the pump tapes... not a hint of anything... and the cops..." he looked at John as well, bringing him back to the present, out of his own head and the obvious sense of helplessness that had drained his color after watching his son disappear again and again and again on the tape, "Their tech guys were _still_ there when I got off shift... they went through a dozen tapes, and even mimicked the sun with spotlights to see if they could make the quote-unquote 'glare' happen again..." he smirked, "I KNOW the guy who set up that system... it wasn't a technical glitch..."

"Ryan?" Shep asked.

"Yeah, Cal's brother..." Tommy nodded.

"Cal's a part time hunter... he just goes after what gets too close to what's his," Shep explained.

John shook his head and scrubbed his face with his hands noting his little boy sleeping soundly in Tommy's arms, content with a full-of-banana belly and his fist as always in his mouth, _I swear he musta been suckin' on that thing even in Mary's womb..._ he shook his head smiling faintly with the far too brief memory of his beloved Mary waddling out to the car as they left the house to deliver Sam into the world.

"You said you have a cousin his age?" John asked.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded stroking Sam's mop gently off his face.

"You must spend a lot of time with him..."

Tommy nodded, peering out at John with eyes heavy with mist, he bit his lower lip and felt Shep's warm hand on his shoulder, "My son would've been almost two now... I was fifteen, she was sixteen. We were in love and stupid, but I saw that little guy and I never wanted anything so much in my whole life as I wanted that boy..." he rushed softly, once more looking at the distraught father before him.

"I'm sorry," John gasped, shocked by the boy's loss. It was clear he'd been devastated by it.

"Thanks..." he nodded, "We named him Tyler... kinda after Kim's dad..." he smiled.

"What happened?" John asked gently.

"Black ice and a patch of fog... took both of 'em, guard rail gave out..." he sniffed drawing in a shaky breath before clearing his head, smiling brightly at John, "Yeah... so... the carnival... they're set up, they tear down Sunday night... when they go, if we haven't got him back in our hands..."

John nodded clapping the young man on the shoulder, "...so if there's never been any... then how...?" he shook his head.

Tommy motioned to Shep who dropped his head smiling, "Buck you think Tom?"

"Probably," Tom nodded, "Almost every crazy story, legend, UFO yarn, ghost story, or bigfoot sighting in this area, are thanks to one Buck Forester...crazy old coot... but man..."

"Sharp as a flint-knife..." Shep nodded, "Damned genius when it comes to conspiracies, cover-ups, and finding a way to make the weirdest damned puzzle pieces fit together! Got a knack for patterns."

John and Shep met eyes, then looked at Tommy, "Yeah... why do you think I"m still here? Go..." he nodded shaking his head, watching them grab their jackets and dash out the door.

"Alright kiddo... just you and me then..." Tommy said softly, turning on Son of Svengoolie, turning off the light and stretching out on the couch with Sam sleeping soundly on his chest.

--

"Lemme see son... you get all those potatoes out of your ears?" Ray bent the boys' ears forward one at a time then peered into them giving him just enough of a tickle to make him squirm laughing and tucking his head.

"C'mon dad you'll wake up..." he started then stopped, his brows furrowing tightly while his mouth bowed down. He looked up into Ray's eyes watching the smile darken just a bit as he wondered why the man's eyes weren't coffee colored. "Huh..." he huffed frowning harder and scratching his head under his very own 'Crows' ball cap.

"Justin?" Ray asked.

"Yeah... just... though I lost something for a second there... so can we go?" he asked, his eyes shining brightly.

_It's just out there in the field... I need to find it..._ that small shivering gray voice whispered.

"Just gotta put my shoes on, I'll be right there..." Missy called from up the stairs.

_It's out there! I gotta find it! oooh WHAT? What is it?_ he stood with his face between the sunny yellow shears that covered the window in the back door, he watched the wheat waving in the breeze and just at the far edge of the barn could see a flattened patch where earlier in the day the combine had done what it was supposed to, cutting the crop and separating the stalks from the chaff.

_I learned new things today... I think they were new..._ he felt the corners of his mouth start to tilt upward as the faint sound of a pleading whine touched his ears making him jump back from the door, his eyes searching the room for something that seemed to lay just out of reach.

"Justin?" Ray asked noting the boys' behavior.

"Yeh...yeah?" he cleared his throat forcing his eyes to stop peering into the far corners looking for things that weren't there, and instead focus on the soft gray eyes in front of him.

"Did you take your medicine with dinner?" he asked.

"Yeah... sure did... ma put it on my plate and I ate it with the smashed potatoes," he smiled tightly, "I thought I heard something though... something whining...it sounded like..." he shook his head clearly disturbed.

"Maybe one of the kittens from the barn?... Tabby did have a litter early this summer..." Ray offered.

The boy nodded, "Maybe... it sounded like a baby though..." he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered at the sense of cold that washed over him.

"Probably one of those kittens, they do sound so human sometimes when they squall," Ray frowned while cupping the boys' face.

"I... I... need? You said you'd help me find it..." he looked up not particularly liking the hot heavy feeling deep in his guts, the one that said something so very important was missing, the one that left him with a feeling of dread whenever he tried to turn his mind toward something else.

"Sure I will... I said I would didn't I?... Do you know what IT is though?" Ray asked, noting Missy standing stock still halfway down the stairs, listening to the conversation.

Their newest addition shook his head, his lips pressed to thin white lines while he shook his head, "I think I had a baby?"

On the stairs Missy gasped softly, pressing her hand to her mouth, while Ray frowned, "A baby?"

Justin nodded, "He's mine... I'm supposed to take care of him... I'm _always_ supposed to save the baby... he's always mine..." he sat heavily down on the floor, his knees to his chest, his arms locked tightly around them, "... Pa I'm cold..." he shivered despite the waxy sheen of perspiration on his forehead, "I need to find my baby..." he grunted, his face crumpled in pain before he fell into unconsciousness.

--

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thanks

sifi.


	4. Chapter 4

Field of Deans – chpt 4

by: sifi.

--

'_What IS that? And why's it look like it's lookin' at me?... Dad! Dad!... oh hell...' he grunted rolling the window all the way up, then slapped his hand on the door lock, making sure it was all the way down. 'the back door!' he remembered making sure that one was down too. _

'_Dad's side...' he thought, scuttling across the front seat, making sure everything was closed up tight as the column of thick white billowed against the windows, and around the car, "DAD! DADDY! HELP ME!" he screamed crawling down onto the floor of the car, the sound of the group Queen fell away, drowned out or muffled by whatever it was that had grabbed the Winchester's impala, or by his furiously hammering heartbeat. He buried his head under his arms and felt the car rock as the sound of something cracking breeched the unnatural silence. Another sway of the car and a little more cracking then finally the dull plunk of safety glass cubes hitting the leather bench seat, "No! Get away!" he yelled daring a peek at the invasive presence, 'need... need...' he felt somehow through the thickness as something wrapped around his wrists, hauling him with horrible undeniable strength off the floor of the car and toward the shattered window. _

"_No! NO! LEMME GO! DADDY! DADDY HELP ME!" he kicked and flailed, his hand broke free, then the other and he collapsed on the seat, his forearms and chin scraped by sharp edges of safety cubes, leaving smears of red as it grabbed again, 'need... too soon, dead...' he felt again and once more his wrists were captive, 'dead?!' "NOOOOOO!" he cried, his voice cracking around the sobs and shivers as he struggled against his captor but this time the grip was harder, and the rolling white flew into his mouth as he opened it to scream again._

_A kaleidoscope of light and color, of pain tearing and crushing while the world rolled all around them, screams buffeted his head, leeching into his ears, sliding down his spine. He felt pressure in places, heat in others and flames danced just a little bit ahead, reaching for him as he choked, gasping, screaming for help, his voice lost in the cacophony of sound. No one knew he was still alive. _

--

"Ray? Do you remember if Michael mentioned anything about a baby in the wreckage?" Missy asked softly, her eyes darting from Justin's pale sweating face to her husband who sat in the desk chair, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands.

He shook his head, "No... it's possible though... he was in such a bad way Missy, there were so many people involved..."

She nodded, "I remember hon... it's been almost a year since the accident, since he came to us, do you think he's really starting to remember or..." her voice trailed off.

Ray nodded, "You heard him screaming out this morning yourself... Could be that Sam is the baby?"

"Do you think that's why he keeps getting drawn to the field, cause that's where you found him last year?" she asked mopping the sheen from his forehead as he whipped his head back and forth, muttering.

"May very well be, but even this morning he said he thought he lost something, he was missing something..."

"Did you see anything out there when you went and got him?" she asked.

"No... just him crouched there, scared out of his wits, barely knowing which way was up," he sighed then smiled wanly, "As I keep saying, at least he wasn't all burnt up and bloody this time," Ray frowned with the memory.

"Poor dear... such a big burden for such a small boy... there must be something we can do to help him..." she sniffed, pleading with her husband even as she bent over, resting her head beside the tormented child, stroking his cheek gently while whispering soothing words into his ear.

Ray nodded and rose, leaving for the kitchen where he stood looking up the stairs while the phone on the other end rang for just a moment longer.

"Mike? Ray Marshall... uh not so good... Missy and I think he might be starting to get some memories back of the accident... yeah, you don't know off hand if there were any infant fatalities involved do you?" he asked then nodded, "Uh huh... uh huh... yeah okay, that'd be great Mike... right, first thing in the morning... oh no! No! Not at all! But if he IS starting to remember things... we want to be able to help him... he's gonna need someone Mike and Missy and me, we're up for it! He's a wonderful boy... smart and basically happy... I know he'll be happy once he gets through it all...Right... see you in the morning then... thanks Mike..." he hung the phone up and sighed feeling a catch in his throat, "He can count all the way to three hundred..." the words caught and held inside his heart while he leaned against the wall scrubbing his face with his hands. _I won't let you down son... I swear I won't..._

--

"Whaddya want?" Buck Forester squinted deeply through the tiny crack he'd opened the door.

"Young man here needs to hear a story Buck..." Shep sighed clapping his hand onto John's shoulder. He couldn't remember the last time someone called him a young man, he couldn't remember the last time he felt... well he could, but it hurt too much.

"What kinda story?" the old man barked.

_My God he looks like Popeye's Pappy..._ John thought as the door came open just a little further and he found himself looking into decades of folds and furrows.

"A true story," Shep grunted and held up his hand as Buck started to respond with what must've been a standard reply, "I know I know, they're ALL true... We need to hear the Marshall story, all of it...not just the crap you tell the kids at the rec center at Halloween."

"OOooh you really DO want the truth... er do ya?" he squinted at John, smacking his gums a few times, sizing up the haggard young man who smelled like the Midwest, not the Pacific Northwest.

"Buck!" Shep barked, taking John by surprise, but apparently the old man was accustomed to this from the hunter.

"Alright alright... ain't gonna torment a man who's got pain writ all over him and you with your hand up his ass puppeting him all around... you gonna break him IN or just break him McGregor?" Buck stepped back admitting both men into his surprisingly orderly little house.

John noticed the scent of fresh cooking, fresh chopped wood, and the must of old books. He looked questioningly at his guide who shook his head, "It's a long story..."

"Mebbe I oughta tell 'im that one! Get him runnin' screamin' fer the coast..." Buck challenged, his twisted wiry frame leaning steeply toward Shep, his long and oft practiced squint losing its severity as a smile tried to creep out from his toothless maw.

"Aww hell..." Buck gave up, motioning both men to a simple wooden table in the small kitchen. "I just put the stew up too..." he pulled a large cook pot off the counter then shoved it into the center of the table as well as a stack of bowls and a loaf of bread.

"Boy's gonna drop if y'don't feed 'im Shep... livin' on Jack aint' no way t'live either son, I know I tried... so..." he scooped the stew directly into the bowl for each of them, ripped what was left of the bread into three pieces, placing one before each of them, then passed out bottles of rootbeer.

"For God's sake man! Get the spoons out we're not animals!" Shep growled dodging off the bench to the sink where he rinsed off three spoons while Buck Forester laughed to himself.

"You don't have much time son...just about two days... what's your gig? Research? Paranormal studies? Cryptozoo...zoo...damnit I hate that word! Bigfoot stuff cause I can tell ya, that ain't no bigfoot..."

"Something took my son," John said softly, his eyes pinning the old man to the spot.

"No..." he breathed.

"Yeah," John nodded.

"Now are you gonna quit the doddering old fool shenanigans and talk or do we take a walk and run the risk of losing his kid?" Shep asked strongly. He was grateful John was letting him push the old man but impressed with how quickly he'd forced him to cut his normal clowning around.

"This morning?" Buck leaned in, all business now, "Only trace of anything a thick white cloud like a blanket of cotton that kinda rolled almost like a tumbleweed, not wispy... and you're the only one who saw it?" he ventured.

When John was done telling his story, he and Shep cleared the table while Buck sifted through stacks in a small closet.

"The Marshalls... Oh Good lord... the Carnival started up today didn't it McGregor?" he asked.

Shep nodded.

"My son would never run away of his own volition...unless it's something like... that story... oh hell the Bradburn... no... Bradbury... oh what the hell is it?" John shook his head while Buck sorted and ordered a small pile of newspaper clippings.

"By the pricking of my thumbs something wicked this way comes..." Shep quoted, "Ray Bradbury's story...the carnival was called Cooger and Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show if I recall correctly... the quote is from Macbeth."

Buck shrieked, whipping around the table and started smacking Shep on the arm repeatedly, "You twice removed moron! Don't you know you NEVER SAY that name! There's a reason it's cursed! You... damned stupid... blight on Scots the world over!" he howled scowling as Shep held back his chuckles. John was getting the feeling this was a pretty normal interaction for these two odd men.

When he was done, the old man gasped returning his attention to John, "No, no... it's not like that... but there's more to it than that son... plenty more," Buck nodded, peering over the tops of a pair of wire rimmed glasses that had materialized on his face, neither John nor Shep knew when.

"Mmmkay, here we go..." he got the clippings sorted, turned up the kitchen lights to full then sat across from the boys before him, "Second weekend in August, 1957 loggers coming down 395 from Umatilla National Forest... Government had gone and opened a season's worth of logging in the area... damned fools... anyway... inland fog doesn't move too much and the roads were slick... truck took out four family vehicles when the driver lost control. When he lost control he was just on the edge of the Marshall's wheat farm, right there on the edge of Lakeview... nobody even knew the boy had been IN the crash let alone survived it until Ray Marshall found him near dead in the field," Buck frowned and swallowed hard, several of the folds and furrows that had lent him the 'Pappy' air, was apparently a bit of a put on for visitors. The man John had initially thought had to have been near 90 was in fact, just a few years into his 70's.

"Dear god..." John groaned looking at the picture of a what was obviously a child wrapped heavily in blood seeped gauze laying in a hospital bed with a lean whip of a man on one side, his cap in his hand, and a soft looking woman on the other side of the child appearing to be in the midst of a bedside prayer. The caption read, "I-395 Tragedy claims 13, local couple awarded custody of sole survivor."

"But how does it fit?" John asked, then nodded, "...the mini-mart. It stands on what used to be the edge of the Marshall farm..." he surmised.

Buck and Shep nodded and John rose, "Well then let's go... let's get to the farm and get my boy back!"

"It's not that easy John," Shep shook his head.

"What? The farm doesn't exist anymore? No one knows where the Marshall's bones are buried? I don't care if I have to tear up half the state of Oregon! I'm going to find those bones and salt and burn 'em and get my boy back!" John stormed feeling as if his head was about to split open, his skull hurt and there were dancing dots behind his eyes.

"Sit down before you go into apoplexy youngun... there's more... it's not that easy because if I'm right, and can finally get some damned proof of it, your boy isn't ON the Marshall farm..." Buck informed him.

"But you just said..." he hung his head scrubbing his face, "...okay fine then we go to the carnival and talk to the owner... make sure the roustabouts know to keep their eyes open for Dean..." he shrugged but met a shaking head once more, "THEN WHAT!?" he yelled leaning heavily on the plank table, barely able to control the fear and frustration that kept wanting to mix his sweat and tears together. His hands fisted on top of the wood, nails digging into his palms to keep his hands from shaking, to keep himself steady, stay the course and be once more the competent soldier he had been before. Before Mary's obscene murder, before the police had investigated him more thoroughly than a proctologist, before they'd threatened to take his sons from him to try and get him to confess to some impossible wrong doing, before his partner had lost faith in him.

Once upon a time he'd been a competent United States Marine, once upon a time when the boogeyman was tree branch scraping the aluminum siding, when ghosts slept in beds with their names etched on the headboards, or remained trapped and held within the pages of storybooks for his children. When Poltergeist was just a movie, and werewolves were either Bela Lugosi, or Michael Landon having a bad hair day, or chased Abott and Costello around with hilarious hijinx ensuing, back when things that went 'bump' in the night was usually a stubbed toe on the hall table. _I have to do better... I have to BE better... I have to or my boys won't make it... I have to be able to keep them safe! I have to get my son back. _

"Are you gonna sit down and let me finish filling you in here boy?" Buck asked, "Or are you gonna go off and miss what little chance you might have to get him back entirely? NOT just for a year..."

"What?" John huffed feeling the wind collapse from his sails once again.

--

"No! NO LEMME GO! DADDY PLEASE!... help me..." he sobbed then gasped feeling himself drawn against wiry warmth that stroked his hair and back.

"Shhh now, it's okay son... It's okay... I gotcha, yer ma'n me... we're both here for you Justin..." he smiled gently into the perplexed face before him.

"Justin?... Sam... where's Sam?" he asked looking around the early morning orange of the room. The curtains billowed gently in the breeze, and a faint rope of white shimmered against the orange light. "No... You stay away from me... whatever you are! You came and took me... you... Where am I?" he asked, his eyes darting away from the approaching snake of white that apparently the man who'd called him Justin couldn't see, _Marshall... Ray Marshall... I'm Justin David Marshall, my mother is Missy, but... no... NO! I'm Dean! and I got a little brother named Sam and my dad is John! He's got a gun named after him!_

"Mr. Marshall... you gotta help me... please!" he scrambled to the edge of the bed, the end of the smoke splitting into two, each branch caressing a temple in an almost loving touch before the ends clamped closed around his throat.

--

tbc.

please R&R

thanks,

sifi.


	5. Chapter 5

Field of Deans – chpt 5.

by: sifi.

--

"Ray? What's wrong? What happened?" Missy nearly shoved her husband off the edge of Justin's bed, dressed in her long white nightgown she took his place and sat beside the boy who lay back, fevered once more, his head thrashing side to side.

"He's definitely remembering... I think Sam mighta been that baby o'his... but he's remembering us to!" Ray smiled sadly, wondering how much this little boy could take before he'd once again retreat into a world of forgetfulness. "I think he passed out..."

The voices of Ray and Missy Marshall drifted gently away from Dean's awareness as did his sense that someone's gentle hand was on his head, trying to give him comfort. Knowledge of their presence and their care slid away, to be replaced with pain and confusion, and something else that began to feel more than just a little angry.

_Darkness pressed in on him from all sides and for a moment fear took hold of his heart, slapping it into motion, then the sound of voices came to him and he dashed forward, the familiar feel of the wheat stalks stroking him, petting him as he passed by. A mewling to his right caught his attention, pulling him toward IT rather than the voices he could make out ahead. _

"_Hello?" he called softly, "Who's there?" 'Sammy zat you?' he wondered. _

_A tiny grunt with a keen that made his heart hurt was the response. Slowly he pushed aside the wheat, the pulsing light of emergency vehicles lit pieces of his path until he came to a small clearing where a small lump lay curled with smoke rising all around it. Slowly he reached out, "Hey now... t'sokay, s'okay..." he assured gently while watching his hand tremble, feeling the heat radiating into him. Sweat beaded down his face, tickling his neck before being absorbed by his shirt. It dawned on him slowly that this lump of mewling something was a kid. _

_The boy on the ground mewled again, something crispy crackling as he turned his blackened and blood covered head, one eye visible simply for the white around it pleaded with Dean, the cracked lips of his mouth opened and the eldest Winchester heard the faintest whisper, 'help... need...'. Dean felt his head nod, "Okay... there's people over there... stay here... I'll get help... just stay here..." he rose to dash toward where he knew people were, where he'd heard them but hot hard fingers clutched his wrist and the mouth spoke again, 'non't leave... please...' Dean swallowed but nodded, trying to pat the hand, but unable to make himself touch that poor charred extremity, "Okay, okay... but I really should get some help..." _

--

Ray and Mike stood side by side over the desk pouring over the police reports, photos, and the emergency crew's casualty list, death certificates and lastly newspaper clippings of the previous year's accident that left the boy Ray was allowed to rename Justin David Marshall almost completely alone in the world.

"Well there were four children accounted for, not including your Justin, but no infants, in fact I think your boy might have been the youngest, yeah... maybe..." Mike started as Ray looked up, his eyes shining with hope.

"Maybe the baby wasn't with them!"

"It's possible..." the sheriff scratched his chin.

Ray cocked his eyebrow, "...possible but what?"

Mike shook his head, "... if there's a brother that someone else was watching, then how come..." he shook his head again.

Ray nodded, "Why hasn't anyone come to claim Justin? You think it's cause what happened to him don't you Mike?"

"Ray... we _know_ him... if this Sam is a brother, or a family member at all... if there IS any other family... Maybe they _did_ come and see him... maybe they figured..." he stalled, turning his eyes down, unable to face the angry gaze from his friend.

"What? You think someone would just leave their child in someone else's hands just cause... cause of how he LOOKS?" Ray nearly shouted in the small office, "None'o that's the boys' fault!"

"I know and you're right... I'm just saying there's a lot of folks that aren't as sensible about these kinds of things... you didn't know him before the accident... so you and Missy, you both love him no matter what... all I'm saying is that sometimes it's hard for blood kin to see past what's just on the surface..."

"That's just wrong Mike!" Ray grunted angrily, "He's a _great_ kid! He's smart as a whip! He's kind hearted and gentle! A child is a blessing!"

Mike lifted his eyes back to meet the soft gray ones of his longtime friend, "Then sounds t'me like he's with exactly the right folks..."

The wheat farmer nodded, "...and by the time he's all grown up, Doc Johnson says the scarring will be so faint, it won't make much of a difference at all."

--

"How're you feeling honey?" Missy stroked the boy's silky hair as she moved to refill his juice glass.

"Better. Where'd pa go?" he asked.

"He had a meeting with the Sheriff this morning..." she wondered just how much to tell him, then decided that honesty was the best policy, "... they went to look at the records from the accident."

"Hmmm," he nodded staring down into his eggs and sausages, "I'm sorry I blew it for us going to the carnival yesterday... I'll do better today..."

"Oh honey!" she sighed sitting beside him, turning each of their chairs so they were able to look into each others' eyes. "It's not your fault! You didn't do anything wrong..."

"I _hate_ being sick! ... I _hate_ making you 'n pa worry all the time... sometimes I think maybe..." he sighed his chest and shoulders filling high then slumping down quickly.

"Justin David Marshall... you clean that look off your face right now young man! Your pa and I are two of the luckiest people in the whole world I think! No one could ask for a better son! So whatever you're thinking... you just remember this... we LOVE you, there's NOTHING we wouldn't do for you!"

She watched sadness and hope wrestle across his face. His eyes shone bright with even the whispered promise of something she knew he couldn't quite name, and in all the little ways he struggled for whatever it really was, to somehow find belief in himself, in their love, in all the things most children take for granted, left her heart just slightly more fractured than it had been before.

Justin pushed himself from the table, a smile that seemed just a little too tight across the shiny patch of stitched together tissue that ran from what would eventually become the top of a sideburn, down to the base of the jawbone, told her he was troubled.

"You haven't finished your breakfast young man, you're not going anywhere until that plate is clean!" she reprimanded with a gentle smile and a stroke over his buzz cut hair.

His smile broadened until both of his eyes shined instead of just the one good one then turned out of his chair wrapping his arms around her neck and his lips to her cheek, "I got chores t'do if we're goin' to the carnival tonight... I'm gonna get a good start on 'em so pa's gonna have less to do when he gets home," he grinned falling into the love in her eyes.

"You're a good boy..." she smiled tussling his hair, "You're gonna make your pa proud."

"Thanks ma..." he kissed her cheek once more then broke gently free from her embrace, "...Love you..." he dashed out the kitchen door toward the coop scooping up the feed bucket from the porch as he flew across the yard.

--

"Say something John..." Shep urged softly, wondering if the road up to Buck's place had been as full of potholes and pocks as the road down was. _Same road... feels different... oh hell_, he cast a glance at John, _pull it together man... you'll never survive this game if you can't put the dad aside, you can't hobble the hunter, it'll get you and your boys killed_.

He felt his tongue flick out to moisten his too parched lips, _How did they keep it a secret? How could they DO that? How could he have done something like that? '1958... it was 1958, things were a lot less... a LOT different back then,' _a small voice inside him argued, _yeah but still..._

"...sometimes tragedy will scar a place..." he mumbled feeling his head about to explode with the horrible truth. It was the same thing Missouri had told him when after bringing her to the house, _...sorta... scars, festering wounds, kind of a psychic gangrene... yeah, same difference..._

"Listen... we'll get him John... we'll find him before..."

"Sunday morning, that cuts eleven hours out of my hands... twenty nine hours to..." _to do the impossible, _he breathed deep, _please... if there's anything out there... _his mind froze, stalling on the mental bottlenecking of all the possibilities, _please..._ he left hanging in the hopes that whatever may exist to counter the evils that had been brought into his life, would know what he needed and grant him just a little more time with his children. "Dean..." he choked softly then turned his head to study the profile of the man beside him, "I can't lose my son McGregor..."

"We won't," the elder hunter nodded, impressed by how well his passenger was holding together. He thought about Tommy in Dean's place at that age and felt his heart rate kick up a couple more notches. _He may not be my son but he's as damned close as I'm going to get to having any kids,_ hewas suddenly almost certain he couldn't have stay glued together in John's place.

"Have you found anything in there yet?" he asked with a glance at the time-warped tome in the new hunter's hands.

Slowly the eldest Winchester nodded, returning his focus and flashlight beam to the brittle pages open in his palms, "Maybe..." he nodded swallowing hard, "If Buck is right about the arrival of the carnival kinda starting it all... he's only six years old... I have to get to him... I have to find a way Shep, he's my boy... I can't bury my own son... I can't let him die, not like that..." the distraught father shook his head, his expression proclaiming his shock to the man beside him.

"Don't you worry Winchester, we'll find him, nothing's gonna happen to that boy on my watch even if I gotta call in every favor ever owed alright... no one's gonna let your son get hurt..." this new ally swore vehemently.

"Listen," John spoke into the book in his hands, "S'a guy in South Dakota named Bobby Singer... we were in the service together... if anything happens to me promise you'll get my boys to him... he's like us...he'll keep them safe..." John asked remembering the first time he'd found himself pulling into Bobby's auto graveyard after leaving Lawrence behind, and the numb dismay that passed through his core, a spectre in and of itself when his old friend, after hearing the horror of his tale, nodded sagely and while handing him rock glass full of whiskey muttered without a second thought, '...mmm sounds like a demon if y'ask me...'.

"Would you listen to me? Nothing's gonna..." Shep started to argue knowing that again, if the situation was his own, he'd be ready to lay down his life for Tom.

"Just promise you'll take them to him! Then maybe I'll be able to focus..." he growled.

Shep nodded, "Yeah alright I promise... you got an address for him or something?"

"S'in my journal..." John patted his jacket.

Shep nodded, "Better leave it in the truck... just in case," _No one gets left behind Winchester, you're a Marine, you know better than that._

--

'_Hmmm? Big... soft... move...' his chubby hands grasped at the tall yellow grass waving all around him. Sometimes they bent down and tickled his face making him giggle. 'I walking good!' he thought feeling his feet moving surely between the stalks, 'Dean gonna be happy... gotta find daddy and Dean... where?' he wondered then heard daddy and the police man in his head, "blah blah blah muffle mumble argue? mumble mumble some more big words he didn't know... took him?" _

_He turned feeling John's anger behind his ear, hot words caressed his neck and blew his hair back, "He's SIX YEARS OLD!" and even though he knew there was supposed to be more 'blah blah blah' that daddy said, just off to his side he heard a 'kid' sound, something that made sense even if it wasn't words. _

"_Dean!" he felt his cheeks pull wide in a huge smile! 'Dean's home! Dean's home! Dean's home! Home with me! Mine, my Dean!' warm cuddly filled him from his tummy all the way up as he pushed the yellow grass out of his way, following the sound of something that was starting to make his lips press hard together. 'can't see... need Dean... where? go 'way big soft... go 'way, need my Dean...' he pushed again and again and finally felt his toe catch in one of stalk bases. He fell down into a pile of soft dark earth, 'ooompf...' then pushed himself up again, his eyes looking into a big red ball that had a face painted on it. _

"_Sssa... mmy?" the ball spoke in a sound that was more like a balloon deflating than an actual word. _

_He felt his mouth turn down noting now that the ball had hair that was red and wet and sticky, 'that bad... Dee?' he thought still trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His hand moved reflexively to his mouth, water came to his eyes, 'Dean go bye bye?' he wondered squatting down, peering closely into the milky green eyes that made him squeal with happy, the ones that saw the world first and showed it to him little by little, and the ones that read the words under or over the pictures in the books that took him to colorful places. _

"_Dean?" he asked patting the sticky red hair down. _

"_Sssam..." the mouth gurgled again. _

"_Me Sam," he tapped his chest, "Dean?... come home? Come home 'kay?...please?" he felt his breath hitch and his throat close as giants ran over the ground making it shake and growl under them, making the yellow stalks around them dance in place while the sound of daddy's voice came back to him, flitting into his ear somehow beneath and twining around the growling earth sound. _

"_Daddy! Daddy! Dean got uh oh!" he cried patting the red stickiness of his brothers' face before dashing toward the sound of daddy's voice. _

--

"Dean!" Sam cried, tears springing from his eyes as he sat up against Tommy, his eyes wide and searching the room. They locked on John, standing at the table sifting through his 'daddy bag' as he turned to see what had made his littlest boy cry out. Sam pushed free of Tommy's gentle embrace, climbed down to the floor and pistoned his little legs across the room into John's waiting arms. 

"What'sa matter Sammy? You have a bad dream?" John asked smoothing the boy's hair and pressing his lips to his temple. _Aaahh Johnsons baby shampoo..._ he thought fleetingly feeling Sam's head nod against his mouth.

Tears glossed his blue-greens, and his chin wobbled looking deep into John's coffee colored eyes, "Dean got uh oh..." Sam sniffed around his thumb.

--

tbc. Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up... Hope you like.

Please R&R

thanks.

sifi.


	6. Chapter 6

Field of Deans – chpt 6.

by: sifi

--

"Wow! I am impressed son! You did a bang up job here!" Ray tussled the boys' hair while listening to a laundry list of chores he'd completed before lunch, "You must really wanna go to that carnival don't you?" he grinned.

"Yessir..." Justin nodded beaming a winning smile up at his dad, "... ma said you were meeting with the Sheriff this morning... did you find out anything?" he asked.

"Sorta," Ray winced pulling the other chair forward for the boy to sit in. Justin sat straight, his eyes, both the good one and the bad one focused on his, _I swear it looks like he can see me with both of 'em..._ he thought while taking a deep breath.

"From all the records it looks like you were the youngest one in the accident, so the good news is that if you do have a baby brother it's most likely he wasn't in it..." he started watching the boys' eyes light up and a smile spread across his face.

"That's great!... did you find out where he is?" he asked, then as Ray shook his head, felt his mouth begin to turn downward, "...but pa if Sammy's with someone else then does that mean I won't get to stay here?" he asked watching Ray and Missy meet eyes over his head as another question crept forward, "...but nobody's come for me..." Ray watched the boy start to puzzle through the couple questions, "... what if they don't know I'm alive? What if..." _what if they DO know I'm alive and just don't want me?_ "...but... maybe..." the words came haltingly, pulling alongside them the possibilities he didn't want to contemplate. "...could they maybe..." he looked at Ray, then at Missy whose eyes seemed a little glassy, "but why wouldn't they want me? Am I bad? Did I do something wrong?" he asked swallowing hard, his rear moving toward the edge of the chair.

"No son! Don't be silly now... you're a wonderful boy! No one could ask for a finer son!" Ray grasped his shoulder gently, his hand half cupping the boys' chin as Missy crouched beside him, her hand on his back then stroking his hair.

"No honey, you didn't do anything wrong..." she soothed.

He felt stinging prickles in the corners of his eyes and a tangy heat in the back of his throat that made his words tremble as they came out, "...then why don't they want me?" he asked sliding off the chair, moving between Missy and Ray out into the main hall entryway where he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Shiny twisted patches of satiny looking skin caught his good eye. One of them was droopy, looking like wax that was partly melted, but the couple lines of bright pink where his skin had been sewn back together weren't so bad. Neither was the pink shiny patch on his forehead by his hairline where the burn was finally starting to blend in. _It's different... but it's not so scary... why wouldn't someone want me? _He inspected the lines, the suture dots and the shiny patch again, then looked closely at the droopy eye, _it's just a little bit down... not so much... and the eye looks normal, _it was the same face he saw every time he washed it, or his hands, or combed his hair, it was the only reflection he knew, _...but maybe there's something wrong with it._ He leaned forward peering into the green eyes staring back at him then shook his head, _no... it's not so bad... so it must be me... I must've done something bad... maybe I did it? Maybe I made the accident happen? _His eyes darted back into the kitchen where Ray and Missy sat watching him, waiting.

"Did I make the accident happen?" he nearly whispered, terrified of hearing that he might have somehow done something so bad that had hurt so many people that maybe the ones he came from didn't want him anymore.

--

"... so _BUCK_ told you that?" Tommy shook his head, frowning with just a bit of wonderment.

"Uh huh..." Shep nodded.

"I don't get it though... how come in all the years since... I mean it's what? Twenty seven years since it all happened... and it's not like the area doesn't get its fair share of traffic... I mean there IS a mini-mart right there... so how come no one's ever gone missing or said anything about walking onto a farm or anything?" he asked.

"Maybe the timing wasn't right, or the circumstances... we don't know Tom, but it's the only lead we have," the elder hunter shook his head.

"Well IF Buck is right and there's some kind of... I can't believe I'm going to say this, 'time portal' laying over the area you're gonna need all the eyes you can get to help you find Dean before time runs OUT and the portal closes... We really don't have time to find someone else to watch the munchkin here..."

"No! You're staying here with him! I'm not going to put both my sons in jeopardy!" John barked.

"... and what if this portal closes with you both, and Cal and Ryan inside? Huh? have you thought about that? Last I remember from Star Trek and stuff, you can't just climb out of a time portal, there ARE no ladders through time!" Tom shouted then quieted himself quickly as the baby's eyes shifted to him and his mouth bowed down.

"Dean my home..." he mumbled tiredly looking up into his daddy's face.

"You got that right kiddo... we're gonna go bring your big brother home, now can you be a good boy for Tommy while we go find him?" John asked.

"Dean got uh oh in the grass... I good boy, find daddy..." he babbled reaching up to squeeze John's nose.

"Yessiree bub... you be a good boy for Tommy so daddy can go find Dean okay?" he kissed his little boy's questing fingers.

"Mmkay," he grinned as John took the hand into his mouth with a playful growl making his little boy light up and smile hugely.

--

Never in his life, that he was aware of, had he seen anything so beautiful or spectacular as the fairgrounds before them. Ray and Missy were both ready to go by the time he'd finished dressing and combing his hair, all the uncertainty of the morning left on a shelf for the time being.

Pulling out of the long driveway that led to the farm proper Justin's eyes squinted at the heavy line of cottony soft white that seemed to mark the edge of the Marshall property, "That's some pretty thick fog pa..." he muttered sandwiched between Missy and Ray.

"Well inland fog doesn't move too much son, but don't you worry, the carnival will be clear as a bell!" Ray smiled then winked at his wife, "Mmm I can smell the corndogs already!"

"Corndogs? and Cotton Candy?" Justin smiled nearly bouncing in the seat, his new blue jeans sharply starched and creased with their cuffs rolled up just enough to keep 'em from dragging the ground, "Can we have both pa?"

Ray pursed his lips thoughfully, "Hmmm both huh? I don't know if that'd be such a good idea... what do you think mother?" he glanced at his wife once more while noting his boy's head turn toward her, his eyes shining wide with hope while he nearly glowed with anticipation.

"Hmmm that's an awful lot of rich food for a young man... could wind up with a bellyache... oooh then there's the rides, all that spinning and bouncing around... could make a young man feel quite poorly..." she mused.

"It won't! I promise it won't! I'll feel fine! Can I ma? Please?" he nearly begged.

Missy chuckled, wrapping her arm around his shoulders then planted a kiss at his temple, "We'll see dear..."

"Aww ma! Please? I'll be good! I won't get sick I promise!" he came close to pouting but didn't quite achieve it, something inside told him his parents were more likely than not, playing a game.

"Well what's a carnival weekend without a bit of overindulgence mother?" Ray asked wryly.

In the span of a heartbeat both parents realized they'd lost their boys' attention, his eyes were fixed straight ahead through the windshield as the Ferris Wheel turned against the darkening backdrop of clear blue skies, the lights pulsing and flickering, beckoning them forward like some visual siren song. Then came the music, the hollow tin-ish piping of a calliope that brought to mind capering clowns in garish makeup with loud honking horns that blew confetti into happily startled faces. Last to find its way into the open windows was the distinct scent of warm soft pretzels, salty buttered popcorn, cotton candy, hot dogs, people and large animals of the four legged variety.

"Will they have an elephant we can ride?!" Justin asked suddenly.

"An _Elephant_?!" Missy questioned.

"Yeah! it smells like an elephant butt! Have I ever been on an elephant before?" he asked not quite registering how much difficulty his parents were having trying to hold back their laughter.

"I didn't even know you'd smelled ones butt before!" Ray held back his guffaw as he slowly pulled the truck into a spot in the field and put it into park just as Missy too burst out laughing with her hand over her mouth.

Justin looked from one to the other, his smile huge and slightly confused, after all he didn't see what was so funny, he just wanted to ride an elephant and something told him that some carnivals HAD elephants to ride.

--

"But I don't understand..." John shook his head, looking at each of the four men standing with him in the mini-mart parking lot.

Cal and Ryan looked at each other first then at Shep and Buck, Ryan shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Look man, just shut the pie-hole and let the professionals do what's gotta be done to save your kid's ass okay?" he grumbled watching the six foot three inch frustrated father move into his space, his scowl fearsome.

"I told you if you're going to be a prick Ryan you might as well go home," Caleb stood forward, maneuvering his brother away from the irate friend of Sheps, "He hasn't been laid in a while so he's a little cranky," Cal offered with a crooked smile, his matter-of-fact explanation effectively breaking the quickly building tension.

"Screw you dick head..." Ryan scowled grabbing his little brother around the neck, bending him forward for a vicious nuggie.

"You wish..." Caleb sneered sliding out from his big brothers' grip and shoving him toward Buck and Shep. Ryan may have been older, but Caleb was clearly bigger and stronger, and more accustomed to hunting the things that go bump in the night.

The younger brother turned to face John, "Sorry man... listen what you need to know about what's gonna go on here... whatever that thing was that took Dean, THAT is what opened the portal, this isn't about US breaking some universal laws or anything, BUT, the risks are real, that portal closes with us on 'the other side' we're screwed, but on a positive note, Tommy'll take great care of your little guy... my opinion? You should stay here, let us go get your boy," he offered.

John's head waggled back and forth, "He won't go with you, he won't go with anyone who isn't me..."

"Dude, he's what six...?" Caleb asked.

John nodded, "Yeah."

"Yeah, so slinging him over my shoulder ain't a big deal," Caleb smiled easily.

"No," John shook his head again, his features set and determined, "We're not gonna get trapped, I'm bringing my son home."

Caleb threw a look over his shoulder to Shep, Buck and Ryan, all of whom nodded their understanding, "Okay then let's see about leaving the door unlocked, Buck, take us to where it happened, that'll be the entryway," he explained to John.

With a terse nod of the head and a meaningful look in the spotlight from the side of the mini-mart Buck Forester led the way into the field that had once been part of the Marshall farm, to the site of a tragedy time would not allow to be put to rest.

--

"Hey now what's the matter Sammy?" Tommy crouched before the sobbing two year old where he stood on his knees, his chest to the motel room door, one hand in his mouth, the other trying to get a grip on the knob.

"Dean... wan'Dean uh oh... daddy... get daddy..." he sniffed brokenly between his gasping sobs then fisted both hands and began to pound the door as hard as he could, his face twisted and red as he shrieked in his piercing two year old voice, alternately for his brother and father.

_This isn't right... _Tom thought shaking his head. He reached out for the child, his hands closing around his torso but to his surprise Sam Winchester slapped them away before turning his attention to the door once more.

"Daddy! Daddy! Dean uh oh! Play hide... Dean go bye bye to grass! Daddy get Dean!" he screamed until he choked, coughing, leaning hard against the door, bouncing his head against it while his shirt caught tears and sniffles and his tiny little fists started to throb.

"Your dad's gonna get your brother, he's gonna get Dean and bring him home Sammy it's okay... really they're gonna be fine!" Tom tried to ration, _Yeah, rationing with a two year old... but something's wrong... I wish he could just tell me..._ "Sam? Sammy look at me..." he urged softly catching sight of the little boy's eye flick to his face.

"I know you're scared for your brother right?" he started watching the baby's head bob up and down in agreement, "You know your dad went to go and bring Dean back home right?"

He nodded again, turned and patted his chest, "MY home! My Dean!... got uh oh... go bye bye..." he sighed deeply, his mouth bowing down, "Bye bye, no Dean... my Dean no more..." he slid down the door onto his butt, his hand slid into his mouth and his eyes looked into somewhere Tom couldn't see as he started to rock back and forth while tears rained steadily from his chin to soak his t-shirt.

"No one's going to let anything happen to your brother Sam..." Tom whispered against the ice that was climbing up his spine.

Sam looked once more into the cornflower blue eyes, smacked the door with one hand and asked, "Go?"

--

tbc.

Please R&R,

Thanks.

sifi.


	7. Chapter 7

Field of Deans chpt 7.

by: sifi

--

Justin stood paralyzed, his mouth ran dry, his eyes were wide and a low heavy warmth in his belly felt like he had to pee, _Just hold it... don't 'hold' it... big boys don't need to do that... but it would help... NO!_ he argued with himself fighting the urge to move his hand anywhere but up in a shallow wave across the air between himself and the pretty little dark haired girl with the big brown eyes.

"Hi," he could feel himself blush as she leaned forward, looking at him. He thought she might want to smile at him, but wasn't sure considering how her lips were twitching, _pretty... pink..._

"Hi, what happened to you?" she asked crouching down just a little bit so she could inspect his face.

His throat worked dryly feeling something like sandpaper over a rasp, "...got in a accident..." he nearly whispered. He couldn't have shifted his gaze if he'd tried, though he wanted more than anything else to see where ma and pa were, this pretty little girl in the blue sundress, with the tanned golden shoulders and pretty pink mouth held his attention without mercy.

"Really?..." she glanced up as he nodded, "...did they sew you up?" she asked.

Again he felt his head nod, almost to the point where his neck muscles were creaking inside his skin, "Uh huh..."

"Wooooow..." she drawled reaching out a questing finger toward the line of scar tissue that ran down his cheek, "...did it hurt?" she whispered looking from the line of red up into his eyes while he stood stock still, more terrified than a proverbial deer in the headlights.

"I don't remember..." he shrugged, "but I think it musta..."

"Are you gonna be in Mrs. Hammond's class this year?" she asked leaning just a tad closer. _She smells like cotton candy..._

Justin held himself still and straight as a ramrod as her finger, warm and soft hovered over the line she was inspecting. His insides felt like he'd grabbed a bare wire when that unfamiliar warmth finally touched his skin.

"Me too... you wanna be friends?" she asked then smiled as he nodded once more, his neck creaking again though his mouth now felt like he'd stuck a handful of desert sand in there.

"Don't you talk?" she asked.

"Sure..." he croaked feeling his lips pull wide into an uncontrollable grin.

Justin felt himself knocked to the side as a group of three, two more boys and one more girl came colliding into the two of them, their attention focused mostly on Betty, "C'mon Betty! We got tickets to see the freak show! They got a bearded lady!" the tallest boy took hold of his new friend's arm.

"And a strong man!" the other girl added.

"And they got a two headed sheep!" the second boy tossed in.

"Oooh!" she responded with a prettily pursed mouth and wide sparkling eyes aimed right at Justin's trembling heart.

"Hey Johnny she's got her own _private_ freak show!" the second boy punched Johnny in the arm then motioned to Justin whose smile disappeared though he chose to ignore the rude comment and stuck out his hand.

"I'm Justin Marshall..." he smiled tightly as the two boys and the second girl traded looks he didn't understand.

Johnny looked at his extended hand then back up into his eyes before shoving Betty behind himself to the other girl who grabbed her arm, startling her into a little yelp, _Hey!_ "Hey! don't hurt her," he frowned. _Where are the grownups?_ he wondered spotting a cluster of adults not too far away, but still not present enough to see what was going on.

"What do YOU have to say about it? You oughtta be _in_ the freak show! They're not supposed to let the _freaks_ run around with the REAL people!" Johnny stepped forward standing toe to toe and several inches taller than Justin.

"Johnny stop it!" Betty called pulling free of her friend's grip to stand before the older boy, "He's a nice boy! Leave him alone Johnny..." she scowled but found herself shoved back to the other girl.

"Ooh not just a FREAK but a SISSY freak! You gonna let a girl speak for you boy? Huh?" he sneered leaning in toward Justin.

Sweat dripped down his neck and face, falling out of his hair like rainwater and there was a tight twitchy sensation in his guts as he straightened his spine, his lips tightened into a fine white line across his lower face, "I'm NOT a freak! Or a Sissy! You just better not hurt her!"

"Or else what?" Johnny snarled, "You're gonna get your gross, ugly freakshow friends to chase us down?"

"No..." he frowned and almost said, _I don't have any friends!_ but then his eyes fell on Betty and he wondered if she would still want to be friends with him.

"I didn't think so... go back to your freak-tent with your squished up face and all that ugly! You're not fit to be seen by decent folks!" he snarled right into Justin's face, a wall of hot malice battering him from all around.

He could feel the sting in the corners of his eyes again and wondered if needles would've felt that bad. His belly trembled and he couldn't breathe right as Johnny shoved him hard, knocking him down to slide on his butt into the dirt and straw that lined the midway.

"Freak!" Johnny hissed motioning his group away, toward the side avenue that would take them to the freak's tent. A second later Johnny turned back to where Justin was still sitting, wondering what had happened, and why he couldn't breathe or stop the tears that were coming from his eyes, and spat a gob that landed on his penny loafers.

"Awww the baby freak is crying! Look at the baby freak cry!..." he taunted turning back toward his friends, Betty was held by the other girl and by the second boy, being moved along, away from Justin even though she looked back, apology written on her face as tears dribbled down her cheeks for him.

Justin looked up at the cluster of adults where Ray and Missy waited for the other children to leave before moving to their son.

"Justin honey?" Missy crouched at his side handkerchief in hand as she wiped his cheeks dry despite the appearance of fresh tears. With a hand across his shoulders she helped him to his feet, his voice quivering as she tried to soothe him, "They just don't know you son, you'll see... that Johnny Beyers is getting to be just as bad as his father! Good lord forgive me, but I hope Harriet never gives Mitchell another child! That whole family's nothing but bad seeds!" Missy fumed through clenched teeth as she stood with her arm protectively around her son's shoulders.

Justin's focus remained just a little farther down where he'd seen Johnny and the group go, and for a moment a bundle of heat exploded inside him, _I'm gonna hit him... I'm gonna go punch him right in the face!_ and he wanted to, more than anything in the world at that moment he wanted nothing more than to feel his fist collide with the flesh and bone of Johnny Beyers' skull. _But I don't think Betty would like that... and I think it would make ma and pa sad... but I WANT to! But... No... ma and pa might not want me anymore if I do that... Freak? AM I a freak? Why would anyone want me then? Maybe they don't... maybe they're fakin' it? _he looked from Missy to Ray, his tears drying down his cheeks while he wondered at their tentative expressions, "Can we go home now?" he asked.

--

"Go!... Go! Go! Go to Dean!" Sam pounded on the motel room door again and again, the tears on his face moving somehow from sadness and fear to frustration that set Tom's heart racing just a little harder as he shook his head.

"I can't kiddo..." he sighed reaching for the little boy once more only to have his hands batted angrily away, "Your dad'll kill me...it's not safe!" he shook his head frowning hard though with each denial his belly quivered more and his bowels tightened with a sense of uncertainty he couldn't pin down.

The littlest Winchester cried out grasping Tom's t-shirt in a chubby fist then pulled toward the door. His grip slipped and he stumbled over his own feet into the solid slab of wood where his head bounced back sharply making Tommy gasp aloud and grab the little bundle of frustration. He held the baby tightly to his chest while Sam frowned and rubbed his head for a second before breaking into a grin and turning toward the door, "Go! We go!" he grinned mistaking the older boy's intentions.

_John is gonna kill me! _he thought wrapping his arms around the little guy, reveling in the warmth and baby smell.

"Okay, okay kiddo... but if your daddy gets mad at me I'm blaming you..." he smiled sliding the motel key into his pocket before making sure the door was locked and moving out into the pre-dawn gray parking lot.

--

"_OOoooh look at that!... it's so ugly!" _

"_Is it a person?"_

"_I don't know... it says here it's supposed to be a boy... but... it's gotta be something else..." _

"_Better not look at it too long... you might have nightmares..."_

"_How could God make such a thing?" _

"_Well God made bugs too..."_

_His hands pulled at the metal collar around his neck but the chains weren't quite long enough, he'd outgrown them and they pulled him off balance until he fell on his side on the rickety plank dais. _

_Big liquid brown eyes looked closely at him, his breath heaved in his chest, the collar was choking him, taking the breath from his body and he felt the heavy hot need to go to the bathroom. He clamped his legs together as hard as he could, it wouldn't do to pee himself in front of this pretty girl whose full pink mouth bowed downward and who didn't seem repulsed by him. _

'_Maybe she would be my friend... if I could be better...' he thought feeling heat rise up through him as his full bladder could wait no longer and the stinging gave way to warm relief. 'No! no! It's not my fault really! they were supposed to let me go pee before the show started! Please... I'm just a little boy...' he tried to explain but the noises that came from inside to hit the air were garbled and guttural, almost a little bit animalistic. _

_He watched her pretty clear eyes flit from his face to the puddle that darkened the boards beneath him, and he watched that pretty pink mouth grimace as Johnny, the second boy, and the second girl came up around her, all of them bearing the same expression of distaste, "C'mon Betty... that's just gross! Baby freak can't even keep from peeing itself... disgusting... something like that should be taken out and shot... put out of its misery..." Johnny said wrapping his arm around Betty's shoulders to guide her away. _

"_I feel so sorry for it..." she sighed casting one last sad glance in his direction before moving off with her friends, leaving him chained to the floor, laying in a puddle of his own making. _

'_Don't go! Please?... I'm not a animal! I'm not! I swear! Please? Don't leave me!' he tried to call out, but the only sounds that hit the air were snarls and lowings more well suited to beasts than a human boy. _

_Oh no... please don't let me have really..._ he thought as awareness returned and wet heat made itself known between his legs. _I'm NOT a freak! ... _ he thought feeling his throat close as he realized he really did pee the bed, _'oh no! I gotta fix this... I gotta undo it... ma's gonna be sad and pa's gonna be mad... I gotta clean this up!'_ he picked his way out of bed stripping out of his jammies wiping himself down with a dry pant leg before putting on a fresh pair of underwear and dashing to the bathroom where he finished his business quickly and quietly.

When he was done he closed the bedroom door hastily stripping the bed, stomping the sheets into a tight ball that he pressed down into his puddle trying to soak up the cup full of fluid.

'_Stupid Justin! Stupid BAD boy! not even the animals pee their beds! Stupid! Ma and Pa are gonna be so mad they kept me! They're gonna put me out in the barn with the pigs... or maybe send me away with the carnival! Bad boy! make a mess of the nice clean bed they gave me...' It was a accident...but I gotta fix it... I gotta clean it up, then they won't be mad. Accidents happen, just clean it up, then... then no one'll ever... 'I'll never EVER have any friends if they find out... Freak! Stupid dumb baby freak!'_ he berated himself with a litany of self loathing set to repeat over and over inside his head as he folded the blanket back, leaving the wet spot open to the air to dry while he clutched the bundle of sheets to his chest and crept from the room down toward the kitchen.

'_Gotta get this dry! Can't let them know I messed my bed... they'll put me with the freaks... I don't wanna go away... I don't wanna be sent away,' They won't, they love me... maybe they wouldn't... 'yes! yes they will! I'm a freak! a whiney little baby freak! and I deserve to be taken out and shot! Put out of my misery!... not fit for being in with REAL people, not good enough for polite company!' _a nasty little voice piped up in the back of his head bringing another round of tears to his eyes while his lips pressed tight together trembling in time with his chin as he crept out the kitchen door toward the laundry line.

Early morning breezes stirred in the surrendering darkness as Justin stood trembling beneath the clothesline, unable to reach high enough to put the sheets over it, _it was an accident! I'm sorry... I didn't do it on purpose... it was an accident! Please don't let them be mad! please don't make me go away... _he felt splinters digging into his fingertips as he dragged a small wooden step stool from the porch to the line, _'oh yeah, they're gonna make me go away... they're gonna send me to the freak show... GOD how could I be so STUPID! How could anyone ever love a thing like me?'_ his knees shook as he climbed the step stool and draped the damp sheets over the line with nervous fingers and the scent of fear sliding up his nose. _It was an accident! 'no! no they're gonna make me go away!' no! they love me! 'Do they? or do they just feel sorry for me?'_ that other voice made him wonder.

--

John watched as Caleb ran a circle of finely crushed limestone around the three foot in diameter clear patch they'd made in the field, in the very spot where Buck knew that pain had ruptured not only two hearts but time and space as well.

John shuddered, finding himself sensitive in a way he never had been before, to the kind of pain that could create such a violent rend in the world, _How will I ever have the strength to do this again? I feel sick to my stomach... but I'm not the only one, and there are people who need people like us... people who can do things like this..._ he carefully copied the symbols for the 5th Pentacle of Mercury into his journal, writing out phonetically the words that Caleb chanted knowing there would be time enough later to find out what they meant.

A puff of faintly shimmering warmth billowed across the group as Caleb rose to his full height nodding at them as he led the way, swallowed as if by some special effect or trick of light into a time and place he didn't belong.

One by one, each of the men, Caleb first, then Ryan, Buck, John, and Shep bringing up the rear departed the landscape with a faint hiss. Their focus was so complete, no one heard the door of the silver Mercury Cougar slam closed as Tommy Daykin clutched two year old Sam Winchester to his chest, his eyes following the toddler's pointing finger while before their very eyes four grown men disappeared from the world.

"Daddy!" Sam squealed with a smile, pulling toward the spot John and his new friends had just been.

"Holy crap..." Tommy breathed through the fear that shook his innards. He moved haltingly forward, instinct and rationality in a head to head battle deep inside. _I'll lay 20 on the kid... there's not a damned thing about any of this that's rational..._ he thought looking down at the seal that would keep the door between times open.

"Dean no bye bye!" Sam reached forward with both arms, his whole body focused on entering that shimmering blanket of nothingness before them.

With Sammy firmly in his arms, Tommy carefully crossed the limestone lines into a time long before his own.

--

tbc.

please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi.


	8. Chapter 8

Field of Deans – chpt 8

by: sifi

--

Justin sat on the porch steps, his arms crossed over his knees and his head down to silence the sound of his crying. Sweat poured down his skin beneath his pajamas and without the finger cramping death grip he had on his knees, he knew his hands would be shaking.

_I have to be good! I HAVE to, then they won't send me away... I should get dressed and start on chores then they can see... I'll be good, I'll be the best boy they could want, then they won't send me away... good boys get clothes and clean beds, and yummy warm food, I'm hungry,_ he thought feeling his tummy growl, _Later... do chores first... then breakfast, let ma 'n pa sleep... then they'll know they did a good thing giving me a place to call home, then they won't be sorry..._ a smile crept to the corners of his mouth while his tears dried on his pajama sleeves. He grasped the feed bucket at the corner of the porch and took off across the yard as the first rays of the sun were cresting the horizon.

--

"Dean!" John called out moving along his appointed path through the billowy soft shafts of Winter Wheat. On either side of him were two men, each fanning outward in their own lines, each man armed with consecrated iron buckshot in their guns, silver knives, flasks of holy water, canisters of salt, various and assorted protective charms and symbols from crucifixes to the Eye of Horus and everything in between as they headed through the far too many acres between the 1958 edge of route 395 and the yard of the Marshall house.

"Dean Winchester! Are you out here?" he called again, _just a few hours... how could they DO that? _he wondered looking to the furthest man on his right, _Buck you bastard... it WAS a different time then... okay so to LET folks believe he ran away is one thing, but to actually PROPAGATE that kind of lie! And what about THEM? What the hell kind of people don't even know where their own son is?!...how could they NOT know he was out there? didn't they check his room?_ he wondered, every sense keen and straining for the sound of farming machinery to come to him from the distance.

"_You gotta understand John... it was a different time... and for a year that's what we ALL thought! EVERYONE in the whole dang blasted town believed that Justin ran off with the carnival freak show... there was no trace of him... we looked high and low, we had search parties, called out anyone with hounds to help search... we didn't have the resources then that we do now, and when the carnival was finally tracked down it didn't matter that there was no sign of him, he could've hitched with them for a time and decided to hit the road on his own... We DIDN'T know!" _John recalled the anguish in Buck's eyes, the tremble on his lips as the story had spilled from them in the brightly lit kitchen of his tidy little cabin.

"I will NOT let that happen to my son! Good God..." he hissed through his teeth, cocking his head, listening to the sharp crispy rubbing of dried plants all around him, "... I will NOT let my son die!..." he promised, his head tilting upward to the sky, "Haven't you taken enough from me?! You DON'T get my son! You don't get Dean, you don't get Sam, you don't get another God DAMNED THING from ME DO YOU HEAR ME!" he roared toward the sky, _except every prayer and promise I can give you for my boys, to keep them safe and whole, PLEASE!_

Across the growing expanse between them the other four men, on either side of distraught daddy Winchester stopped in their tracks, turned to look then turned just as quickly away, the blood in their veins running just a little more chilly with the fear that far outweighed the fury in his voice.

"_He was highly traumatized John... he had nightmares and fugues that would send him racing into the wheat toward the road where the accident happened. More times than I can remember Ray would find him passed out, curled in a little ball, always in the same spot he'd originally found him... why do you think Ray and Missy sold off those acres? Do you think he could work the very fields where the child they'd prayed so hard for the Good lord to give them had died?" _

"He's NOT their child... he's MINE and no damned ghost is gonna take him from me!" he growled to himself, turning back, his eyes scanning a wave of motion in the crops around him, the other four men were immediately noted for position and status as the duration and depth of motion was weighed against knowledge of his sons' size.

From the furthest edge of the field a thick white fog sat almost idly, it seemed to wait, ever patient, providing camouflage now for the temporal incision they'd created. Through the fog the slim form of a teenage boy and his charge stopped just inside the border of standing crops.

"Damnit!" he cursed noting five indistinguishable dots moving in five different lines toward the main yard, "I think that middle one might be your dad Sam... he's gonna kill me..." Tommy shook his head then noticed the bundle in his arms peering intently around the field, his fingers in his mouth while he sought something.

Sam looked back and forth, his blue green eyes focused hard in concentration. A moment later, his body turned to the left, his free hand pointed in the general direction of the barn that lay far ahead, the distance obscured by the layer of mist around them, "Unh!" he grunted while pulling against the arms that held him.

"That way?" Tom asked shaking his head as Sam nodded, _I can't believe I'm following a TODDLER! The munchkin can barely talk... I gotta be nuts..._ he breathed then started moving in the direction the little boy was pointing, _but still..._

--

_Gotta do good... gotta feed the chickens... get the eggs... gotta make ma 'n pa proud, make 'em happy, then I can stay... gotta do good, got lots of chores, slop the pigs... biiiiig pigs... scary pigs... wake up the cows... nice cows... biiig cows but nice... gotta do good, lots of chores to do... ooh gotta fix the bed before they wake up... gotta clean up my mess, it's so much...I can do it..._ his head turned sharply toward the field behind the barn, as a distinctly human sound caught his attention. He swayed on his feet, the rest of the surrounding landscape taking a fraction of a second to catch up to his rapid motion before snapping into place.

"Dad?" he breathed turning his attention from the cranky chickens as the back door to the house came open with Ray's slim frame backlit by the kitchen light.

"Justin? What're you doing out there in your p.j.'s son?" he asked with a yawn then stepped out onto the porch.

His legs felt like sticks as he turned toward his pa, _something's wrong... I need to go into the field... I need to... something... waiting... love?_ but the pull of the presence before him was equally strong, and it was tangible.

"... the chickens sounded hungry..." he explained approaching the steps with his head tilted slightly downward, "...and I wanted to s'prise you an ma with getting some chores done b'fore church..."

Ray beamed at the boy, tussling his hair, "Well look at you! You're gonna be one heck of a farmer aren't cha? Up b'fore the sun, gettin' half your chores done b'fore breakfast... I see y'even started the laundry..." he nodded toward the sheets flapping on the line a few feet away then noted the boys' severe blush.

He'd been awakened by the squalling racket of a cranky henhouse awakened prematurely, rolling out of bed he'd looked out the window and seen the bright apparition of his boy throwing handfuls of feed from the bucket. A quick check of Justin's room, sheets missing from his bed and a small darkened spot in the middle of the mattress brought a squeeze to his heart for the boy. No child ever wanted to mess his or her bed, but after what happened at the carnival the previous night, Ray figured a small accident wouldn't help his son feel any better.

"...sir..." Justin dropped his head and wondered at the warm hand on his shoulder.

"C'mere son..." Ray directed him to the top step and sat beside him, "... I'm gonna hafta show you how to use the machine if you're gonna be helpin' your ma with her chores too, but I want you to stay away from the wringer okay at least till you get a little bigger... if those rollers catch your fingers they'll squish like a caterpillar under your boot... y'understand?" he asked watching his boy carefully, watching his eyes flick from the billowing sheets to his face and back again as he nodded.

"Do I have to go to school this year pa?" he asked softly as a voice called, _'Dean?' Dean?... lost... something... but what?_ he wondered, then wondered if he could talk to his pa about the voice in his head or if that would just be another bad mark against him when all was said and done.

Ray frowned, "I thought you were getting all excited about school, making new friends and such... and Betty's gonna be in Mrs. Hammond's class this year too... I think she likes you..."

Justin shook his head, his eyes fixed on the dirty wiggling toes that poked out from his pajama pant legs.

"I think she does... and unless I miss my guess... you kinda like her too don't you?" he asked, his voice smiling softly in the blossoming daylight.

Justin nodded but didn't look at Ray, his eyes shifted to the beckoning field before them, the wheat waving as if some giant hand were petting it, as if it were just so much fur on the face of the earth.

'_Dean Winchester! Are you out here?!' _cried the voice again, though it was still distant it seemed to be growing clearer, _Why does that name sound familiar?... Do I know someone named Dean?_

"Well then, it'll be fine... and you don't have to worry about that Johnny Beyers... he's in the third grade, he'll be in a whole different school than you for the first year," Ray's palm rubbed warm circles on the boys' back.

Justin looked up at his pa's eyes, a faint flicker of hope returning to his own, "Really?" he asked. Ray nodded, but then the boy frowned again, "...but she went with him..."

"Betty lives a couple houses down from Johnny and his family... and I think she and Alison, that's the other little girl, then Bobby Mueller all might have gone to the carnival together... I'm just sayin' it looked like you might have made a new friend and maybe y'don't even know it yet..."

"Really pa?" he asked.

"I think so... but you'll only know for sure if you go to school with the rest of the kids your age..."

"...but what if ... what... what if I don't belong there? what if the rest of them don't like me? what if..." small strands of silver slipped from his eyes as they darted once more to the sheets hanging on the line before falling to the ground and back to his wiggly toes.

"I did a bad thing... I made a accident... big boys don't do that... good boys don't make a mess in their bed..." he muttered, _'Dean Please be here! Please son!' _then shook the voice from his head, not able to understand why he could barely sit still, why he felt like leaping to his feet and running into the field. Why his head felt like a jack-o-lantern with a big fat candle burning inside it.

"Is THAT why you started the laundry?" Ray asked motioning to the sheets as his little boy nodded, unable to look him in the eye.

"Aww shucks son, accidents happen to everybody once in a while... y'probably just had a little too much water before bed is all..." Ray tussled his hair glad to be at the crux of what had his boy so worried.

"Really?" he asked finally daring to look up.

"Well sure... we all get up sometimes in the night to go... but you had a really big day yesterday. Taking that into consideration, maybe you musta just been tuckered out enough to sleep right through, it happens sometimes..."

"So I got another chance?" he asked hopefully.

"Another chance at what Justin?" Ray asked, confused by the question.

"Another chance to be a good boy? So I don't have to go away to the freak show?" he muttered, "Johnny said I should be in the freak tent, and Bobby said so too..." he mumbled.

"Hey now! I won't have that kind of talk! Your ma 'n I love you son! We prayed for God to give us someone we could love and he gave us YOU! and nothing is gonna change that! No matter what Justin, you're OUR son, we would NEVER send you away! NEVER do you understand that?" he asked gruffly, his thumb and forefinger holding the boys' chin gently so the truth could shine between them.

Slowly the boy that owned his heart nodded and his lips trembled faintly in the beginnings of a smile.

"Good... now why don't you go get yourself dressed proper for morning chores and we'll handle 'em together, let your ma sleep in a bit okay?" Ray wrapped his arm around the nodding head of his boy, drew him in and planted a shaky kiss on the top of his head. _It'll be alright son, once folks get to know you... they'll love you just as much as we do. _

"Thanks pa," he hugged the trembling man beside him then dashed into the house, quietly up the stairs and into his room to dress properly.

--

"Uuoaaah!" Sam wriggled and squirmed his face all scrunched up and reddening as his feet flailed, thumping against Tom's ribs and chest, a lucky heel catching him in the family jewels as he shifted his grip on the slippery little boy and nearly dropped him.

"Down?" he asked tightly thanking every deity above that the kid hadn't meant to kick him there. Sam nodded pointing away from the diverging group of men they'd followed and a little back toward the road.

"C'mon kiddo I know you can talk... say something..." he urged setting the little boy on his own feet but making sure he had a firm grip on his hand.

"Uh oh..." Sam breathed in a near whisper while patting the side of his head with an open palm. In a moment he started to pull the teen behind him deep into the swaying grasses.

"I find Dean... sticky b'loon... go prfffffflbbblllllt, say Sammy...say me!" he frowned moving forward, pulling a suddenly shivering young man behind him.

_I got a bad feeling about this..._ Tom thought watching the five elder men moving in what he was certain was the wrong direction.

--

Ray poked his head into Justin's bedroom just as the boy was tying his shoes, "Are you gonna be okay finishing with the chickens and tending the pigs while I run down a few acres b'fore your ma wakes up?"

"Sure pa... no problem," the boy smiled leaping to his feet and wrapping his arms around the man's waist, "Thanks pa," he sighed softly, closing his eyes with the warm comfort of that hard calloused hand stroking his hair back.

"You're a good boy Justin... now... let's go get some things done for ma so she can have an easy day today huh?" he adjusted the cap onto the boys head with a bright smile as the first orange rays of dawn shot through the bedroom window.

"'Kay..." he nodded dashing into the hall, down the stairs and out the kitchen door like a shot.

"Is he okay y'think Ray?" Missy asked stepping into the hallway in her robe and slippers.

"I think he's gonna be just fine Missy..." he kissed her temple, gave her a squeeze and a stroke to the cheek before heading down the stairs himself. _I hope..._

--

_What was that?_ John's attention turned to the house before him, it sounded like a wooden screen door slamming. "Dean? Is that you son?"

A warm breeze fluttered through the yard catching his attention as a set of white sheets fluttered ethereally in the direction of the barn. He wasn't sure they were really there but with the sky turning from steel gray to the lavender of pre-dawn that would eventually give way to the pink and orange of early sunrise, he'd be able to tell before long.

"Dean!? Come on dude! Talk to me! Are you out here?" he called then waited, listening to the sound of angry or hungry chickens clucking and squawking off to the left. "Dean! Please answer me son! Please! It's daddy!" he called.

"Daddy?" Sam turned grasping Tom's jeans in his hands, trying to haul himself up so he could see above the wheat.

"Yeah kiddo, that's your dad... he's going to find Dean... you wanna go to him?" Tom asked picking the boy up again and pointing in the direction of the elder hunter.

Sam shook his head, his eyes big and tired, filled with frustration he couldn't spill just yet, "Daddy bad way... sticky b'loon Dean prfffffflbbblllllt..." he raspberried then pointed back down to the ground, "we go..." Sam pointed down again, this time grasping Tom's fingers to pull him forward.

There were only a few moments when Sam seemed to get disoriented before quickly righting himself and their course, drawing Tom through the rows finally to a small patch where the stalks had been broken and dark earth, smelling faintly of worms and other moisture lay bare, fitting the memory of a toddler's dream.

"Are we here Sam?" Tom asked crouching beside the baby who fell to his hands and knees, his tongue poking out of his bowed downward mouth while his hands pulled at the surprisingly soft ground, digging.

"Get daddy..." he grunted pulling tiny fists of earth away.

"Uh no way kiddo... we get him together..."

"Dean!" Sam squealed as a glimpse of white became visible under the little boy's fists, "Dean got uh oh!... go sticky..." he muttered more to himself than to Tom.

_Oh man, oh God... is that what I think it is? Dean got an uh oh... oh man... please..._ he thought helping the little one clear away the dirt until his suspicion was confirmed with the exposure of a shattered jaw bone, crushed and fragmented partial skull that could easily belong to an average sized six year old kid.

"Oh jeez... Sam... how did you know this was here?" he asked grasping the baby to his chest and standing up, "John! John get over here! Shep!" he called as loudly as he could though the thickening mist muffled his voice, deadening the sound before it could reach the men.

"No! No! Dean!" Sam squealed pulling against his arms, pulling toward the ground, toward the exposed skull and small cervical vertebrae that lay close by.

"We're gonna save him kiddo, I promise..." Tommy pressed his lips to Sam's temple, his arms holding him close before holding him apart from himself, "do you know what happened? How Dean got his uh oh?" he asked.

Sam smiled nodding, "Ppppbbbbbrrrrrrooooooommmmm," then raised his arm, "That."

Tommy followed the line of the boys' finger as it pointed toward the barn.

--

tbc. (I thought it would end with chapter 8... I'm sorry,)

Please R&R anyway.

Thanks.

sifi.


	9. Chapter 9

Field of Deans – chpt 9

by: sifi.

--

John cocked his head to the side turning in place, _did someone call my name? _he wondered uncertain if he could see faint outlines in the field midway between the road and the barn or if it was a trick of the light or the surrounding mist.

"Dean! Come on Please Dean! Please! Answer daddy!" he called. Sweat dripped and pooled against his low back as he neared the mass of squawking fowl running madly after handfuls of scattered feed, strewn by a boy in overalls and a brand new looking 'Crows' cap.

"Dean?" he asked tremulously then started moving forward, a heavy warm hand grasped his shoulder.

"Not yet..." Shep whispered drawing the newer hunter back into the shadows.

"That's him..." he whispered choking, his eyes flicking from the boy to his new ally, "... that's my baby..."

Shep nodded, "Not to these people... and not to himself, you know what Buck told us as well as I do..." he whispered urgently, _Get hold John... he's gonna bolt... he's gonna try to grab the kid and the pooch is gonna get screwed! For everyone's sake John... please... _"You can't let the daddy inside win this... you gotta be the hunter man... it's the only way to get your boy back and you know it. This HAS to be finished!"

Slowly John nodded, _The only way to get my boy back... whatever it takes, I'll do anything..._ the back door creaked open, then banged shut as Ray Marshall hopped down the steps moving toward the yard where the boy he believed to be his son stood with his head cocked to the side and his eyes unnervingly close to where John and Shep stood.

"You okay son?" Ray asked with his hand on the boys' shoulder.

Beneath his hand still resting on John's chest, keeping him in place just in case he did decide to bolt after all, Shep felt the man's chest quiver with each breath, "He's not your son you sorry son of a bitch... he's MINE..."

"Easy tiger... we gotta do this right, make sure nothing like this ever happens again right?" Shep's words were barely more than warm breath in his ear, but John had rarely ever been so glad of another presence to keep him focused as he was to this man in this moment. "Once he runs we'll close in, the others are in place... it's going to be alright, we won't let this go down..."

Slowly John nodded, his eyes once more leaving his eldest son to fall into this new friend's green-gold ones. "It'll be your own one day, then you'll know... and I'll be there," he babbled not really knowing what he was saying or whether or not the point he thought he might want to make had been carried across, but the older hunter's nod and half smile spoke of his understanding.

"_Part of the problem is that it's about time, and we just plain don't know how to manipulate it," Buck had said while pouring each man a shot of whiskey, "... this is why I'm asking you to stay behind John, s'not that y'can't be trusted or anything, but personally, you're a daddy, you're THE daddy... so..." _

"_So you don't trust me," he smiled in response. _

"_Exactly," Buck nodded, "All we can do is be there and snatch it when the opportunity opens up... if you can't do that, if you can't wait, you're risking ALL of us..." _

_John nodded, "I get it." _

_Shep dropped his elbow casually on his new friend's shoulder, "I'll stick close just in case the daddy-man tries to blow the plan," he nodded patting John's chest with an open hand. _

He shook his head at the muffled sound of an enormous engine struggling to turn over in the early morning like some slow to wake fairy tale beast, "It's almost time... let's go..." he nodded, his lips pressed into a fine line, all the trembling fear that belonged to the father inside fell behind a blind provided by the soldier he needed to remind himself he had been, and _could_ be once again.

Shep kept his expression carefully neutral but literally felt the change move through the man under his hand and nodded finally easing his palm from John's chest.

"If I miss, it's up to you," John said softly, moving back into the field in a half crouch with Shep at his side nodding, but his eyes were fixed on the young boy in the farm yard, on his knees, his head pressed into his hands in a position of agony, the very same young boy that time would not allow him to touch until just the right moment arrived.

"_...it'd be like trying to grab one of those holograms... and it would only scare the boy, run the risk of closing him down rather than opening him up, which is what we need," Buck sighed. _

--

'_Someone's calling me... there's a baby crying... I have to get the baby,' "... s'okay Sam, I gotcha... daddy's gonna make you a bottle... s'okay... you're safe now..." he could feel the squirming bundle of heat kicking against the restraint of his footie pajamas, the baby's tears stopped as soon as his hands came under him and the sniffling turned to even breathing when the littlest Winchester felt the solid warmth of his big brother's chest against his own. Their heart beats fell together, dropping out of syncopation and into a steady rhythm that mirrored their breathing. Chubby arms wrapped around his neck and warm easy breathing filled his ear, tickling him as he sat on his bed, carefully scooted back then lay on his side, his hand petting the brown satin waves that would always bring to mind the smell of Baby Magic and Mommy. "S'okay Sammy... I'm here... I'll keep you safe, you sleep now..." he soothed meeting the blue-greens that would always mean 'home' to him, reading the absolute trust in them, and warmed to the core by it. '... forever mine,' he thought as the little guy took his hand out of his mouth and tapped his fingers against Dean's smile, his mouth closed on the baby's hand and around it he mumbled, "eeeew baby goo!" making his little one laugh. _

'_...back to the start... gotta go back... lost something... Sammy? Sammy... my Sam? Yes... mine... back to the start, I gotta go back... I want my daddy!...' _Fear pounded the boys' heart inside his chest while his legs chewed up the ground, spitting it out behind him as he raced through the rows and rows of wheat, needing to find the beginning, the start of it all so he could stop the hurt inside, so the pain could go away and he could breathe again, and feel his baby breathing with him while daddy held them both together.

--

"Dean!" Sam turned suddenly, his hand flashing out, smacking Tommy in the head as he turned from the direction Ray Marshall had driven his combine, back around to look where the baby was pointing.

"It's almost show time Sam... but we gotta be quiet, we gotta wait for the right time okay? Otherwise it could get your brother a really big uh oh okay?" he said softly to the child who nodded.

"No Dean uh oh..." Sam held up his fingers to his lips then pointed out toward a line of swaying grasses that marked the frantic passage of a child torn between two worlds without knowledge of it.

"Kay then... let's go," Tommy checked the position of the combine then set off toward the point of origin to wait for the right moment with Sam in his arms.

--

Ray breathed shakily in the early morning light as he turned the enormous machine around to head back toward the farmhouse, "Dear God if you're up there, help my son, give him the strength to come through this with all your love and guidance beside him, please... he's too young to carry such harship, he's had so much pain already and he's such a good little boy, help him find your strength inside himself please..." he prayed aloud. Part of him wanted to take Justin aside, to talk to him about so many things he'd need to know, to convince him that he was a good boy just as worthy of the Good Lord's love as any other creature HE made, but he knew that telling, versus him learning it on his own were two different things. "Help me 'n Missy to be whatever he needs as he grows up into this world, guide us straight and truly please... amen," he finished barely able to swallow around the tight sclerotic feeling in his throat.

He brought his hand up to wipe away the drops of sweat that stung his eyes even this early in the day, and as he did so, he missed the faint weaving trail nearly half an acre ahead as the boy he prayed for was drawn once again to his beginning.

--

"Owie, owie, ouch... please..." he fell to his knees clutching his head in his hands, a tearing, stabbing, hot poking prickling him all over as it always did. He was reminded of rolling into a field of sticker-weeds as the scent of leather and strange music he wasn't familiar with passed through his head almost from one side to the other before leaving him surrounded by quiet.

_This isn't where I belong... I need to go home... I need my daddy and my Sam... 'but pa 'n ma need me...' _"Please stop... who are you?" _'come into the field, I'm in the field... ma 'n pa need us...'_ so he pushed himself to his feet and ran forward pushing aside the stalks as he moved toward route 395 through a strange spot where it appeared the ground had been dug a little bit, where part of the air was warm and part of the air was almost icy with cold and he heard a tiny voice inside that pocket of warmth, _"Dean!"_ it called inside his head but he couldn't stop. His body was not his own to control so he continued to run until he fell to the ground.

"Oh God stop, please stop, please stop, please..." he groaned against a wave of crushing feeling moving through his body. As if some giant horrible thing was rolling over him. Fear came with as the ground rumbled beneath him and seemed to shake at the same time. He remembered a flume of white reaching through the car window while he crouched on the floor, he remembered a kind of fear that didn't come often, and how he'd trembled with the thought of being alone. _Dad was with Sammy... when it took me... what is it? What ARE you?_ he asked though he really knew.

--

John's eyes bulged in angry disbelief as through the mist he made out the shape of Shep's nephew, with Sam in his arms, approaching the position where Dean had fallen.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" he barked moving quickly toward the boy.

"Daddy...!" Sam squealed happily, his hand pointing down at the ground just a few dozen yards ahead, "Dean... uh oh..."

"I think he knows something..." Tom explained, "... he knows his brother's in trouble John... we found bones not too far from here..." Tom pointed back toward the barn, "HE led me to them, Sam knew where to look... he knew something was going on, we had to come..." he nodded then motioned toward the returning combine with his head, "We don't have much time..."

John scowled mightily but ran his hand over his baby's head, his eyes betraying his fury as Shep joined them with a breathless frown, "What're you doing here Tom?" then a quick chuck under the chin, "Heya Sammy."

Sam giggled, ducking his chin against his neck then pointed once more to where Dean lay in the grasses fighting whatever it was that was trying to keep him here, "Dean!" he said by way of explanation.

"John!" Shep pointed toward the rapidly approaching combine realizing they were too far away.

"Son of a bitch!" John grunted throwing a furious look at Tom and Sam.

"Here!" Tom thrust Sam into John's arms, then grasped the pistol from the waistband of the elder mans pants and took off at a fluid run that had both men staring, deeply impressed with his speed as both John and Shep bolted in the same direction, neither man able to achieve the speed the boy could.

"STOP!" Tom yelled holding the pistol overhead, the muzzle angled just enough to ensure that no one would get hurt by the slugs as they eventually lost momentum and returned to earth. He squeezed the trigger several times in succession, the sound sharp enough to get Ray's attention.

"Son of a bitch!" the farmer cursed hastily manipulating gears and controls as a young man appeared before the combine and the sound of gunfire penetrated his awareness. With agonized shudders and stutters the enormous implement ground to a halt just a few yards from where the blonde haired boy stood, and just a little further in the distance five adult men and a baby moved into a circle around a spot he knew all too well.

"What the hell is wrong with you boy! You lookin' t'get yourself killed! That combine'll make short work of a boy your age!" Ray vented his fear by yelling at the panting boy.

"Not as short as it'd make of the six year old kid over there..." Tom puffed pointing back toward the circle the men had made around a semi-conscious boy on the ground.

"Good lord in heaven no!" Ray felt as if the ground were shifting beneath his feet, he could feel the blood draining from his head as the boy reached forward to steady him, but he stumbled back as the hand passed through his forearm leaving behind a trail of warmth.

"Whoa dude..." Tom gasped rubbing his hand against the icy cold that made his skin burn. "Not yet guys!" he called over his shoulder.

"What the hell are you?" Ray distanced himself from the teen then dashed to where he was certain he'd find his Justin curled once more on his side.

"Justin! Justin are you there son?" he called then ended up on one side of the boy, looking into coffee colored eyes and a bristly, sweat-shiny face crimped with anger and concern.

"His name is Dean... he's MY son!" _"They loved that boy more than life itself John so don't worry, if your Dean is with them... they'd never let any harm come to him," _Buck's voice reminded him. _'What happened to them then?' _John remembered asking, _"Ray and Missy were God fearing folk... they grieved, and mourned, and tried to move on once they found the boy's remains and had proof of what had happened, honestly I'm not sure if they ever did. They sold off those acres... then a few years later, after kinda dropping out on the world... they just sorta disappeared...We searched the house and the grounds for any remains, anything that would indicate maybe a murder suicide or something like that..." Buck shrugged, "Nothing was ever found... who knows... one day they might find something in the fields like they did Justin's skeleton." _

"_What do you BELIEVE happened Buck?" Shep had asked, but Buck Forester had simply shrugged. _

"Excuse me?" Ray swallowed hard and wobbled on his knees, then looked up at Buck who'd dropped a hand onto his shoulder.

"Dean! Dean no uh oh!" Sam squirmed reaching to the crumpled bundle on the ground, pulling hard within the firm confines of Sheps arms. Shep stroked the boys' hair then set him down on the ground with a smiling kiss to the back of his head. His mouth stretched into a huge grin as the boy toddled woodenly to his big brother, climbed over him, pushed him onto his back and slapped his forehead repeatedly, "No sticky b'loon... no uh oh... Dean good boy... I do good, fix uh oh!" he grinned planting a kiss on his brothers' forehead then toddled to Tommy with his arms outstretched and a smile beneath the yawn that ran over his face, "Dean home!..." he grinned pointing to his big brother.

"Yeah boy... Dean's gonna go home with you yeah?" Tom smiled.

In his arms, Sam shrugged, Dean going home, or BEING home to the toddler was one and the same as he nodded and yawned hugely. His eyes closed as Tom lifted him off the ground and held him tightly.

Ray squinted up at Buck, his mouth frowning hard for a long moment before his jaw dropped into an 'O' and his eyes squinted even harder, "Michael is that you?"

"Yeah Ray... it's me..." Buck nodded to John, "Pick him up John... Ray... we need to talk... Missy's up?"

"Yeah... Mike what happened to you?" Ray asked shaky on his legs as Buck lent him as much support as he could while they headed back to the farmhouse.

"Heh... just time my friend... just time... look... I'm gonna tell you some things you and Missy aren't gonna want to hear..."

"You're gonna take Justin away from us..." Ray nodded and couldn't be bothered with trying to hide the crushing pain inside. Ribbons slid shamelessly down his face as he looked from his friend to the man he'd called 'John' as well as the others who were following closely behind. "You're gonna take my boy Mike... and I don't know what I'm supposed to do about that..." he choked.

--

"I can't tell you how sorry I am... but he doesn't belong to you..." Buck sighed as Missy dutifully played the 'good hostess' and poured lemonade for all the men, and two boys crowding her kitchen.

"I don't understand Mike... Who... how after all this time...?" Ray shook his head, his eyes downcast, unable to look at the man John who sat at his own kitchen table, with his own son in his lap, pressed close against his own chest and rocking him unconsciously while his lips kissed his fevered head just as Ray's had done so many times before.

"Thank y'ma'am..." Ryan and Cal sounded together as Missy handed the drinks to them despite the tears in her eyes.

"He's been through so much..." she choked before the men, her arms crossed over her chest and tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she stood shaking before them.

"I'm sorry Missy... I'm so sorry..." Caleb breathed, his own smile shaky and his eyes tearful in sympathy with hers, "I wish I could say he's all yours... I know you'll do good by him..."

Slowly the woman before him nodded, "I believe you wish you could..."

"Ma'am... in more ways than you know... " Caleb nodded sniffing back what tears would dare to come to the fore after so many years in the grips of the ethereal world. Caleb, in his far too few years knew all too well to heed the warnings he'd been given. IF he could spare the Winchester men any of it, he would have. IF he could have spared either of the boys what he knew was coming, he would have. IF he could have spared John the depths of his own fears he would have. He could do none of those things, but he would do the only thing he could now that these people from his earliest remembered dreams had finally become reality in his life. He could be there for them.

"Come with me Missy?... I need to talk..." he whispered softly into her ear noting that she looked at her husband in some unspoken communication. Ray nodded after a brief meeting with Caleb's eyes and watched his wife walk through the front room, and out the front door with a stranger.

At the side of the porch he slid a stalk of buffalo grass from its sheath and stuck it in his mouth, "I used to have dreams... sometimes I still do... the kind that come true more often than not. Fact is any way you look at it the boys are John's children, they have to go back to their own world..."

"Of course children need to be with their father..." she stopped and raised her face to his, "When you say 'world' you're not talking about the city or another state are you?" she asked.

"No ma'am..." Cal shook his head.

"Are we... Ray and I... I heard one of you say 'bones'..."

"Yes ma'am..." Caleb nodded.

--

The boy in his arms shifted against John's chest, his legs stretching out as a soft moan escaped his lips just before his eyes blinked open looking directly into rich clear brown eyes he thought he should know.

He startled, rolling off John's lap and onto the floor landing in a crouch as a kitchen full of adults froze, waiting breathlessly to see what he would do.

He cocked his head to the side, both of his jade green eyes wide open and measuring the man before him.

"Hey Dean," he breathed through the tears he didn't realize were falling.

"Am I Dean or Justin?" he asked fighting the foggy pounding in his head as his gaze shifted from this scruffy man he thought he should know, to the sad wiry man he knew loved him. "Were you the man out in the field this morning? I think I heard you calling..." the boy explained while inching closer to this dark hair man that felt so familiar.

_Gotta be careful here... _"Yeah son, that was me, I'm your daddy... I'm John, you're Dean, and you have a baby brother named Sam..."

"Sam..." he nodded speaking softly, "I dreamed of a baby named Sam..." he nodded feeling warmth and fear radiating from this dark hair disheveled man before him. All around them in the kitchen the air thickened and the boy's hands flew to his head while his eyes squinted shut in pain.

"Dean?" John leaned forward looking at the faces around him, "Dean what's wrong?"

"It's one of his headaches... he's had 'em ever since the accident..." Ray moved to the cabinet to retrieve a prescription bottle and a glass of water, "They start as headaches then he forgets who and where he is... sometimes he gets drawn to where I found him, like he did this morning..." he hiccoughed realizing just how close he'd come to losing everything, if it hadn't been for the strangely dressed blonde haired boy that looked like trouble, "Did I say thank you son? I can't believe... Oh my Good Lord... thank you for saving my... this boy..." he breathed through a horribly tight throat as he knelt before Dean handing him the glass of water while the boys' natural father read the medicine label.

"Valium..." John breathed opening the bottle and dumping the pills down the drain.

"Those'll take the pain away! He'll sleep and when he wakes up he'll remember who he is!" Ray stood before John.

"He's been TRYING to remember who he REALLY is! Don't you get it? You can't give valium to a kid!"

"John..." Buck warned softly, "We didn't know what we do now..."

The boys breathing evened out as Shep reached down to take the glass from him. Looking around at all these strangers in his house he raised his hand up toward the wet cheeks and beard, "... was Sam in the accident too? Pa say's they figured I was the youngest, but I dreamed of a baby..."

"Oh God..." _damn you straight to hell you son of a bitch! _he thought toward Ray but tried to smile, "That's right, the baby," John nodded breathlessly, "...that's Sammy... he's our baby... yours and mine... you feed him and sing to him and keep him safe when he's scared, and we take him on the slide at the park... you hold him in your lap to make sure he doesn't fall over... and you read him stories..." he nodded closing his eyes in a long blink while his heart pounded in his chest and his throat filled with emotion.

"I can read stories?" Justin breathed smiling with just a little disbelief.

John nodded, sniffling back his fears and nervousness, _Just grab him... oh my God what did they do to him? I'll KILL them... they doped up my boy, they made him forget us! please sweetheart... please remember me, remember Sammy..._

"Yeah..." John choked, "... he likes Dr. Seuss...well you both do..."

"Fishy! fishy fish!" Sam grinned stomping into the kitchen with Ryan behind him, "Dean!" he squealed clapping while he danced in place for a moment before remembering how to move forward. He charged across the floor into the body of the little boy who's confusion slid into a wide open grin at the sight of the toddler.

"Sam?" he asked closing his arms around the little bundle who pulled on his shirt, trying to climb up into his arms.

"Dean read fishies?" he asked as the boy picked him up and held him to his chest.

"Sammy..." he sighed as the baby's head came to rest at the crook of his neck and shoulder, while his arms and legs wrapped around him.

In moments their heartbeats fell together as did their breathing, "...mine..." Dean sighed smiling despite the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

"What the hell?" Shep asked looking out the window in the door, the house was surrounded by a mist so thick the porch couldn't even be seen.

"What is it?" Ray, John and Buck asked together.

"Uh oh..." Sam breathed, pointing at the door but content to remain in his brothers' arms.

"I know now... I know who you are..." Dean nodded, turning toward the white that billowed into the room through the screen door, he backed away, colliding with John behind him as the only thing that remained of Justin David Marshall approached and hovered before a sobbing Ray Marshall who finally began to understand the truth.

_There was no one there to save him... this is all that's left of the treasure God saw fit to put in my keeping? Lord forgive me..._ he thought through the sob he tried to hold back.

Dean turned, looking up at his fathers face then handed Sam to John and moved toward Ray.

"He wants to be together again Mr. Marshall... he didn't mean to hurt anyone and he knows you didn't mean to hurt him either..." Dean wrapped his arms around the man's lean warmth, "Thank you for taking good care of me..." he sniffed once more breathing in the scent of warm earth on the man.

"Ray?" Missy dashed to her husbands' side. She found herself encircled by his gentle embrace and by a pair of small loving arms she _still _wanted to hold onto more than life itself. She dropped a kiss onto the boys' head then watched with tears in her eyes as the five men and two boys who didn't belong there moved off to the side. "Ray is it true?" she asked.

"I think so Missy... Dear God help us I think it is..." he turned and looked at the group of men who were barely visible now through the supernatural mist inside his house, "What do we do?" he asked.

"Caleb said... he said... that maybe we just have to... let go?" her voice trembled as she looked back at Cal who nodded his assurance.

Around them the mist thickened until not a single one of them could have seen their own hand in front of their face. Slowly it dispersed leaving only the five men and two boys standing in the run down, neglected kitchen of the long since abandoned Marshall farm.

"Dean..." Sam yawned reaching against John's grip for his big brother who gladly took him with a shaky breath and silky tears he was still young enough to not mind letting fall.

"Are you ready dude?" John choked kneeling before his boys, his warm calloused hands cradling his boys' heads.

Dean cocked his head against his little brother's cheek and breathed deeply, letting a small sad smile play on his lips, "Uh huh..."

Slowly the group moved out of the dilapidated farm house, the lights from the mini-mart just barely visible a few acres out toward the road as the sun rolled over on the horizon.

"Uhm... who ARE all you guys?" Dean asked noticing that his baby brother was fast asleep over his shoulder as they started across the yard.

--

"You're too quiet Cal... what's up?" Shep asked now that they were alone in the truck, everyone else dropped safely off at their homes, or at the motel.

The younger hunter shook his head watching the line of carnival vehicles pass them in the opposite direction. _We healed a twenty seven year old wound, I hope... but there's not a damn thing I can do about the wounds I see coming, man that sucks_.

"Talk to me man..." he looked over, "It's the boys isn't it? You know something..."

Slowly he nodded, but his eyes were squeezed shut hard and his jaw muscle was jumping but he couldn't bring himself to define it, with Shep he never had to really, _besides, how do you explain what layers of screaming feels like... God help those boys... all three of them, they're gonna need it. _

"There's a storm coming..." he nodded.

--

End.

I hope you liked, but whether you did or not,

please R&R

Thanks.

sifi


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